Loving you is like catching a falling star
by emmanuelles
Summary: Santana Lopez thinks she has no chance to find happiness on Earth. She becomes an astronaut and gets appointed to a one-year long mission into space. When her latest one-night stand partner turns out to be her new co-worker, Brittany S. Pierce, the life she's built around herself slowly starts falling into pieces. AU Brittana story, set in 2054.
1. Prologue

**Hi!**

**I don't know if anyone will read this fic or not, but I just wanted to get this out there.  
**

**This is a story inspired by one of my favorite films, Gattaca. It is set in 2054 and it will involve several ND characters, almost all of them working for the same company as astronauts. It will follow Santana's narrative, but I might mix it up later. I'm not sure about any of this, if it's even worth continuing or not, so I'd appriciate you telling me maybe.  
**

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She doesn't understand it.

She doesn't really understand what is happening when she opens her eyes to the sight of an unfamiliar apartment surrounding her. An unfamiliar apartment with an unfamiliar bed under her and an unfamiliar body lying beside her tangled in unfamiliar sheets, a blonde woman sleeping sound while her memories start rushing to her head.

It takes a couple of seconds to gather her thoughts and comprehend this whole strange, unfamiliar situation she finds herself in after she wakes up properly.

She's stunned.

This situation breaks so many rules of her life there is no point starting to count how many, because it would just make her feel even more anger towards herself for letting this happen.

Falling asleep beside the person she had sex with is an act she's been trying to avoid ever since she entered this present stage of her life, where sex strictly happens within the confines of one night stands.

But the truth is that sex has strictly meant satisfying a physical need her whole life, so she's never even had the urge to fall asleep beside her partner.

She has never really had the urge to do anything like this before.

She is not like that.

She doesn't do any pillow talk, she doesn't stay for the night, she doesn't give any indication whatsoever that the sex might means something more to her than just a way to get off and relieve the stress that's been collecting inside her body since the last occasion. She just puts on the few clothing items she lost because of her partner's persistence in the heat of the moment, gathers all her stuff, carefully removes any sign of her being there at all and without any gracefulness, she simply leaves the place as fast as she can.

She doesn't even throw one more glance towards the women she sleeps with, before she lets herself out.

Women she usually doesn't even know the name of.

So this - waking up to the blonde locks she had her fingers tangled in spreading all over the pillow next to hers and a pair of pink, still swollen lips she kissed with insatiable desire and hunger breathing out hot puffs of air into her face - feels pretty strange.

It's frightening and she can't deny that in an odd way, exciting for her.

But it's barely a crumb of thought that enters her mind before she inwardly curses herself for falling asleep and on top of that, not even regretting her bold move completely.

She probably shouldn't have done any of it.

It was too dangerous and wrong on so many levels already in the beginning.

She shouldn't have let herself be mesmerized by the woman on the dance floor, she shouldn't have let her body gravitate towards her and she most certainly shouldn't have let the woman kiss her without a word or any form of introduction.

But falling asleep beside her so carelessly is on a whole new and much higher level of wrong.

She knew way before this moment how hard it would be to forget this night, but now she feels she just caused herself even more trouble. Because the sight of this mysterious sleeping beauty beside her just adds another point to the list of things that will be hard to lock away deep inside the darkest chamber of her mind, a place she will never open up again.

The way her blue eyes turned into a darker shade when they locked with hers in the nightclub, the way her hips swayed when she approached her, the way her tongue explored her mouth, the way her hands sneaked behind her back to pull her body closer, merging them together and causing burning heat to spread in her whole body, while her heart was pounding so hard against her ribcage, it was the only sound she heard apart from the heavenly moans of the woman.

It was just the beginning.

This woman was simply irresistible.

Nothing like those others she's used for her own satisfaction. She's never felt this craving to have someone before. In a way, it's not surprising, because she's never wanted a woman before. She's only wanted their warm and soft bodies, and the control she had over them.

She's only ever been interested in the act of sex, only the experience itself and the power she felt during. She's never really cared for the women themselves.

Measuring up to a few expectations about appearance, like having a nice face and a hot body, and they can serve her purpose. There is only one truly important rule for her about one night stands: there must be a narrow possibility of seeing her partners ever again.

That's the reason why she's never picked up a woman in Nyx before.

Picking up a woman in the private club of the company she works for, surrounded by the prying eyes of her co-workers - her rivals and in a way, possible enemies - would have meant not only risking her job, but her safety, her future, simply her whole life and even the lives of her best friends who know about her secret.

So this is what last night truly meant, she realizes with a shaky intake of breath.

It meant risking it all.

She shuts her eyes tightly and pinches the bridge of her nose, because it makes her nauseous just to imagine what could happen if the blonde was curious about her. She can't not leave samples behind, strands of hair or her dried saliva all over the woman's body. Her DNA is all over the place, so the woman could easily investigate who she really was.

It would take two minutes and her secret would come out.

So the only thing she can do is pray that it won't happen, to pray that the woman will just shrug her shoulders impassively when she wakes up alone in the morning and to pray that her affection for her is not reciprocated in any level.

When she's done with praying and pulling herself together, she opens her eyes again to take another look at the sleeping form of the woman, the comforter barely reaching her waist as she is settled on her front, spreading comfortably on her huge bed, but still leaving enough place for her so they are not touching.

A deep frown creeps up on her forehead while she is trailing her tired eyes all over her bare shoulder and neck covered with marks caused by her hungry lips and her digging nails, because she can't even explain it. She can't come up with any excuse for what she's done.

All she knows is that she's never felt like this before.

Last night, she felt like she wanted this woman, she wanted to have _her_, not just having sex with her.

She still wants her and that's something she can't ever let herself feel for another person.

That's why she tears her eyes away from her angelic face she feels she can stare at for minutes and not get bored at all, and turns her head towards the huge window above the bed.

She's been quite impressed when she stepped- or more like stumbled into the apartment distracted by the woman's eager hands groping all available parts of her body and took in the sight. It instantly screamed two things for her, money and taste, which made her all the more interested in who this woman was and why she's never seen her in this little town before.

She must have been someone's plus one in the club, since she is quite sure she knows every single person that is working at company and only they are allowed to enter the exclusive night club. They and their plus ones of course, just like this woman.

Her apartment really is impressive, open and full of space, with the huge glass walls near the bed just merely a couple of feet away from the calmly waving ocean.

But she quickly forgot about everything else in the apartment, when she noticed the huge window above them after they slumped on the bed exhaustedly, the window that is offering her the most beautiful sight a person can imagine in their dreams right now.

It's her favorite sight, the nighttime sky; full of shining stars she spent years learning the name and specifics of. She's admired the galaxy they exist in since her childhood, the endless space, so deep, so mysterious, and waiting to be discovered.

She wants to know every little secret of it.

And she finally got the chance, after twenty-four years of fighting the people around her and pushing the obstacles away, she finally got the chance to escape this planet.

Planet Earth, where she has no chance to find happiness in her life.

When they got the news two days before, it was one of those rare occasions in her life when she felt her heart flutter in her chest. Excitement started buzzing in her whole body when the words left the director's mouth, words about Neptune, the furthest planet from Earth in the Solar System and words about a one-year long mission.

The mission she's been appointed to complete with nine other astronauts, her three best friends among them.

A little over four months and she can finally go up there, like she's done countless of times in her dreams and she can finally experience being in space.

She hopes she can finally experience how not to feel like this, the way she feels here all the time, so lost and miserable in the life she's built around herself with lies, huge lies only four people knows about.

But it will be all over in just a hundred and forty days.

She counted them of course.

It will be exactly a hundred and forty excruciatingly long days before the mission launches, before the relief after twenty-four years of struggling will finally come and save her from this hell.

For one year, she would get the chance to forget about it all, forget everything about this place and the life she has to live, the person she has to pretend to be to be able to get a chance like this in the first place.

She wonders how it would feel like to fly up into the sky, enter space and meet the stars every atom in her body was once a part of.

It would feel like home.

At least that's what she's hoped for her whole life and just the mere possibility of finally experiencing this feeling fills her heart with such warmth no other thing has been able to offer her before.

She's rarely felt like she belonged here on planet Earth. Those occasions were caused by her friends or her work, the two things that are saving her from drifting away into madness or depression.

But she's never felt like she belonged here because of a woman, she muses as she casts her gaze on the content features of the woman's face again. She is just inches away from her, so close she should barely lift her hand and she could smooth her blonde locks away from her forehead.

She can't do that though, she reminds herself bitterly before she averts her eyes, only to catch a glimpse on the clock on the woman's nightstand. It really is time to go home before she wakes her up, saving both of them from the embarrassing situation it would cause.

But it's hard.

It's really hard not to just decide to stay here and wait for her to wake up, so she can look into her eyes one more time.

She remembers every detail of those eyes, the brightest eyes she's ever seen, like they imprinted on her mind. They were so deep, like an endless sapphire galaxy, a thousand times wouldn't be enough to discover every hidden small detail of. Much like the galaxy around them she admires with all her heart.

She craves to look into them, to be consumed by them just one more time.

Even though this situation is nothing but unfamiliar for her, it's strange how the whole night felt like they've gone through the same motions for numerous times before, like they've known each other's bodies for a long time. The playful nips at collarbones, the pinches at hard nipples, the little licks and playful pecks on skin moist with sweet arousal and sweat from the intensity, every motion seemed so familiar in a pleasurable and at the same time, painfully cruel way.

It's cruel to think how they can't ever repeat any of them ever again.

She's already given up a lot for this night to happen. She gave up her rules about sex and one night stands, she gave up control and her security. It's too much already but she feels she would give up a lot more to catch a glance at those gorgeous blue eyes for one last time.

But her life has never been built around the things she would do.

Because if it were, then she would cup her jaw and trace her thumb all over her soft cheek, wait for her to wake up, so she can smile at her when she finally opens her eyes. She would ask what her name is, something she hates a little that she didn't do before and maybe that little gesture would lead to a wide range of possibilities in the future.

Possibilities of more talking, kissing and touching and repeating these over and over again.

But she is not meant to have these possibilities.

Her life is about what she can do, what she is capable of doing and what she is allowed to do. It's full of limitations she didn't set for herself, but she still finds a way to make it all work for her. She finds a way to push the boundaries of her existence, the life she was meant to have from the moment she was conceived, her parents meaning the encounter to be nothing more than what this night will mean for her after she gets over her odd fondness of this woman.

Only sex.

Right now, she has no idea how she will be able to convince herself that this night meant only sex though, but she knows she has to find a way to do it somehow.

She shakes her head a little, because she probably shouldn't even think about what she would do now, in case this beautiful woman wakes up and maybe she won't be able to resist her after all, and possibly throw away everything she's been fighting for her whole life at the same time.

So she really fucking shouldn't.

And that's why she tears her eyes away from her and glances up to the sky one more time.

It will be worth it, she reasons like she's done for numerous times in her twenty-four years of living, those occasions when she had to force herself to do something against her deepest and most secret wishes.

It will all be worth it.

The tormenting struggle to accept the fate she's been given.

All those nights of studying in the darkness of her room when her parents didn't watch and all those long hours of working unbearably shitty jobs to make a living somehow after she finally decided to leave home; and saving money which after four years of trying on her own turned into saving up for the only solution that made her able to achieve her goal and get into the place that offers her this chance of escaping.

Buying another person's identity and starting a new life as someone who could have easily achieved this goal without years of struggling if they simply wanted.

Because it was all in their genes.

It was all guaranteed from the second their parents stepped into the waiting room of their local geneticist to start the process of creating their baby. A baby that would be the mix of the best portions of them, simply a designation made of their best selves.

A valid person.

Much like the person that is still sleeping soundly beside her.

Because there is no way she would be anything other than valid with all the perfection she seems to be.

It barely crosses her mind for a nanosecond what she would do if it turned out the woman was an in-valid like her, before she inwardly laughs bitterly how stupid she was to even muse about that.

She almost forgot there is screening at the entrance of Nyx, preventing any in-valid entering the prestigious private nightclub of the company. Well, every one of them who doesn't use the blood sample of a valid person, pretending to be them like herself, so she can get access not only to this club, but the company itself.

The woman must be a valid.

This is the last thought that crosses her mind before she carefully slides to the edge of the bed and untangles herself from the silky sheets.

Her whole body freezes in the motion of standing up when she hears the woman stir behind her. She prays that she didn't interrupt her dreams when she turns around to look at her.

She breathes out with relief when she notices her still asleep; but she is quickly disturbed again, when she watches the woman reach out with her hand towards the spot on the bed her body was occupying merely a few seconds before, only to find nothing to hold on to.

She can't get her mind around this simple move. The woman searched for her, she wanted to touch her, even though she was unconscious.

It seems like she wanted her to stay beside her, she needed her body in her bed and she doesn't really know how to process this.

She doesn't really know how it feels to be wanted or needed.

But who she is kidding, it must have been simply an instinct that made her do it.

It must have been simply a physical need to have a warm body beside her and something soft under her hand, so she could continue to sleep comfortably.

She shakes her head at herself, because there is no way a woman like her would ever want her or need her.

With a deep sigh, she turns her back to the sight of the sleeping blonde and stands up at last.

She quickly grabs her hair tie to collect her hair in her signature tight bun, and then she searches for her clothes around the bed. She dresses herself as quietly as she can, not even pulling on her shoes since she doesn't want to wake the woman with the clapping sounds of her heels. She grabs her purse from the couch and tiptoes to the door, before turning around to trail her eyes on the half naked body of this flawless woman sleeping on the bed they were moving towards the edge for the third time just a few hours before.

She bites down on her bottom lip to keep her tears at bay, when the woman gathers a fistful of the sheets into her hand while a faint frown creeps up on her forehead.

She must feel there is something wrong, something missing under her palm.

It makes her heart ache that she is the one missing from there.

But she can't go back to bed. She can't go back to fall asleep again and wake up beside her in the morning. She can't smile at her when she opens her eyes to the morning light and she can't ask her name. She can't talk to her or kiss her or touch her anymore.

She can't even hope to do any of these again in the future.

Because after all, this woman is a valid and she, Santana Lopez is an in-valid.

There is no way there would be a possible chance for them together in any form of relationship.

With a shaky breath she tears her eyes away at last.

She straightens her back and lifts her chin high to get a little confidence, convincing herself that she can do this and grabs the handle to open the door.

Maybe leaving her place as fast as she can would make it easier.

But it's hard, because she knows the second she closes the door behind her, she would have to start letting it go.

The dancing, the kissing, the touching, the sex, forget about all of it.

This woman and everything she's made her feel tonight, she has to bury the memory of them into the darkest place of her mind.

She has to let her go.

Because there is one thing she knows for sure, one thought screaming repeatedly in her head and squeezing her heart just so tight it feels painful when she steps out of the house.

_They are simply not meant to be._

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**So anybody has thoughts about this stuff?_  
_**

**I guess I will continue writing it for now, just to see if anybody is interested in reading it.  
**

**Well, also find me here if you want: emmanuelle-s on tumblr or livejournal  
**


	2. Part 1

_**Thank you for encouraging me to continue this story! **_

_**I enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you will enjoy reading it! Please review if you have time! :) **_

_**And find me on tumblr of livejournal with the name: emmanuelle-s  
**_

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**Part I**

She arrives home to the first rays of sun hitting the small windows of the apartment.

The apartment, the place she's been living since she's made the biggest decision of her life is completely different from the one she's just sneaked out from. A stranger would most definitely describe it as mysterious, because it's dimly lit most hours of the day and it is full of instruments and devices only a few people would know how to use or even what kind of purpose they serve.

But for her, seeing these strange utensils in neat order on the metal work benches or the stainless steel refrigerators in her home became so natural over the past three years, she doesn't even put any thought to them as she walks through the downstairs area to her room.

She slumps on her bed and kicks off her heels, burying her head into her hands. She lets the darkness consume her, relaxing as her thoughts drift away while she inhales and exhales slowly. When the only thing she can hear is her own calm breathing in the room, her thoughts not screaming loudly in her head anymore, she drops her hands and opens her eyes again to the ceiling.

It makes her think about what's upstairs or more like who's upstairs and she starts wondering if she is the only one in the house who is not asleep right now.

She is afraid she's not.

She should check her, she decides, before she goes to sleep or at least goes to bed to try. She quickly changes into a tank top and a pair of shorts, before she tiptoes out of her room on bare feet to the stairs.

Upstairs, she crosses the second living room and turns to the short hallway, only to find light sneaking out the narrow line under the door of the second used bedroom of the apartment.

Quinn is up.

She is up too, just like she guessed. Not surprised at all, she carefully walks closer until she is just inches away from the door. She briefly contemplates knocking, but quickly decides against it, as she knows she can't offer any comfort for her best friend these days. These days in February are the same every year as they are slowly approaching the date of her daughter's birth. They go by with Quinn looking like a ghost of her true self, clearly depressed as the biggest regret of her life, giving up her little baby girl still haunts her.

It's different for Noah or at least he pretends it doesn't get to him as much. But Santana knows it's eating him alive too, he just tries to be strong and fight it off somehow.

Both of them escape to hard work, but sometimes they seek much more dangerous ways to forget, the rough path that involves either sex or alcohol. The worst is when they use them the same time. That's when she and Sam have the most responsibility to force some sense into them to stop and remind them who they are. They always stop, because it doesn't take long to realize that meaningless sex and wild drinking are the last things that help when all they need is people around them to care while they are trying to let it go.

Santana cares and that's why she doesn't knock on the door. She knows it's easier for Quinn if she doesn't insist on talking about it, because that always seems to tear her barely healed wounds open again. So she simply shows how much she cares by being there.

And Quinn probably knows she's standing in front of her door right now, because they have this weird connection when two people can sense the other's presence.

It's a rare and precious thing in the world, especially in Santana's, where the feeling of utter loneliness almost ruined her whole life once.

It was the night she became friends with Quinn, Noah and Sam.

Best of friends even.

It was the night the person she shared this apartment with before left her for good, left her alone not only in her home but in her lifestyle full of huge lies and almost unbearable sacrifices. That was the night she learned for life how awfully tricky and dangerous alcohol could be, because she almost drunk herself to death. She was saved by three people she'd only known for not even a whole year that time.

The morning after, when she's managed sober up enough to be able to talk properly, they insisted on having a conversation.

She entered it considering the three of them as only acquaintances and finished it as friends.

They wanted answers from her, assuring her that she could trust them. She shared her biggest secrets with them, how she bought a valid woman's identity and started a new life pretending to be her, so she can get into USC, the place where she'd met with them months before, when the training program started.

Her fate was in their hands.

They could have told the director or even turn to the authorities since what she's been doing then and ever since is strictly illegal. It's a crime, but for her it means the only solution to make her dream come true, escaping her life on planet Earth to discover their galaxy.

Her dreams of flying up into the bright blue sky, enter space and meet the stars weren't crushed. Her hopes of going to the only place she would feel home weren't ruined.

She revealed her true identity and shared her secrets she'd been hiding from them with great care before. They didn't judge her for being an in-valid and pretending to be another person, they seemed to admire her ability to come this far on her own instead and keep up with the valids, whose life was guaranteed from the second they were conceived.

They talked for hours, cried on each other's shoulders in silent understanding and in the end, it turned out that they all had their fair share of secrets in their lives.

They've all made mistakes in the past they regret till this very day and they were all hurt by others at some point. Violent father, unwanted pregnancy, drug problems, outing, offering sex to achieve a goal, these were their secrets.

It seemed they were all relieved to share them with someone that day and they've slowly built unconditional trust between the four of them since.

She really thought she would lose everything, but she gained three best friends instead.

Best friends she would go to the end of the world for, if she had to.

But right now all she has to do is make sure Quinn is all right and judging from the quiet sniffing she can hear from the other side of the door, she is all right.

She is not well, but she is all right and that's all that matters for her.

She leaves her without disturbing her quiet grief and walks back to her room. The dark curtains cut out the faint morning sunlight, so she can rest for a few hours. It's always just limited hours, she is simply not able to sleep more than a few at one go. Stress is the reason, she is sure about it, but it's been constantly present in her life since she was quite young, so she's gotten used to it. She's gotten used to survive a day on hardly any sleep and even to the nightmares, which have been haunting her recurrently during these hours.

From time to time she wakes up feeling even more exhausted than she was before sleep.

She can only hope this time will be an exception, when she tucks herself in up to her chin and closes her eyes to fall asleep again.

/

Her first path leads into the kitchen after she awakens.

She doesn't even care to check herself in the mirror before she steps out of her bedroom, because there is just no point. Quinn has seen her in much worse state for a couple of times since they've been living together.

She finds her sitting at the kitchen island and sipping a cup of tea in silence.

Their eyes meet for a split second, but it's enough for her to notice Quinn's are puffy and red. Undoubtedly she's been crying for hours through the night and even the early hours of the day.

She turns her back to her to fix an enormous mug of coffee for herself, so strong that it blows her in the chest and keeps her vigilant the whole day. She takes a seat at the other side of the island and opens the yet untouched morning paper, when Quinn delicately clears her throat.

"You disappeared last night." She states while absentmindedly circling her finger on the edge of her cup.

Santana just nods.

The silence becomes uncomfortable after and the tension makes her skin tingle until it burns, when Quinn suddenly tears the paper from her hand.

"In Nyx? Really Santana?" She chuckles wryly. "Do you even grasp how dangerous -?"

"Don't!" She cuts her off with an intimidating tone. "I'm aware it was a mistake, okay? A fucking huge one."

Quinn cringes at her cursing, but her words were definitive enough to shut her up and she doesn't press the issue longer.

There really is no need to push her, since Quinn must know already how guilty she feels for being so stupid to sleep with someone from the club. She exposed herself to the danger of the blonde woman finding out her true identity, since she must have lost a few hairs judging from the way the woman pulled her hair in pleasure and not even mentioning that she came on her sheets for three times. It's a huge threat still, as she could easily investigate with her fresh samples if she was interested.

She finishes her coffee staring at the paper with unfocused eyes, the weight of her actions hauling her down, while Quinn stands up and prepares some breakfast for both of them. They need a lot of energy after all. It's their obligation to be in a perfect shape constantly, so they have to eat on a regular basis even when they are not hungry at all.

They eat in silence, and then Quinn places the plates into the sink before walking to the door. Santana follows her steps with tired eyes, when she suddenly halts and tilts her head to look back at her.

"Was she even worth it?" She asks in a much forgiving tone than before.

Her stiff body softens a little, because this behavior is typical for Quinn. First scolding her for being reckless, then showing that she still cares even though what she's done was stupid.

"You have no idea." She murmurs after a few seconds of hesitancy, staring at the last drops of coffee in her nearly empty mug.

The images of the night enter her mind again and she gets so wrapped up in the reminiscences of having passionate sex for hours with the mysterious blonde that she barely notices Quinn beginning to speak once again.

"Well, she was gorgeous, that's for sure." Quinn declares quietly, before stepping out of the room and leaving her behind, dumbfounded by her words.

So she's not just simply guessed how her night turned out, but she's seen her with the woman. She shakes her head, because she really should have been more cautious, at least dragging the woman out of the club before entering a heated make-out session.

But she clearly lost the rest of her sanity when she first laid her eyes on the perfect body of the blonde.

She curses her for being so irresistible, because now she is sure she will be welcomed by envious looks and meaningful smirks tomorrow at work.

/

It's considerably better than she expected.

Only a few of her co-workers stare at her with something different than the typical respect and fear gleaming in their eyes, when she exits her car with Quinn by her side. The parking lot of United Space Corporation is packed with expensive, recently washed cars, blinding her almost with the sunlight glistening on them. Hers is no different of course, catching people's attention would be the last thing she needs in her life.

She must appear as one of them.

She must give the impression that she is a valid, no different than any of them or maybe even better in some aspects.

And she clearly succeeds, as her costume is the same dark grey color as the majority of the women's blazers and skirts are around her. Some chose different shades of grey and some of them went so far to wear black today, she muses inwardly as they cross the parking lot.

Clearly, life in this day and age is not about expressing personality.

But she doesn't really care for cars, or clothes, or any of the materialistic stuff in her life anyway.

There are only two things she cares about profoundly, her friends and her work. That's one of the reasons why her heart beats a little more rapidly every time she steps into the huge complex of USC.

They approach the entranceway with dozens of other employees and stop at the end of one of the ten queues leading to the security devices. It's only ordinary that a prestigious company like USC can't allow the disgraceful in-valids stepping into its holy building. There is screening all the time, apart from the night, when the whole complex is being cleaned by young in-valids, who dream about the perfect life of USC employees.

It takes only seconds until it's her turn.

Her every single move is closely monitored by the security guard. She acts nonchalantly as she places her index finger into the groove of the security device and doesn't even bat an eyelash when it's jabbed with a tiny needle, taking a blood sample from her.

A second later the device confirms her identity and the guard's strict expression softens a little as bits of personal information appear on the screen. The left side is occupied by a picture, a portrait of a woman quite similar to her and a name appears on the right side.

Anita Perez, people around here knows her like this.

She stares at the picture dazedly, pondering how people are not able to notice the hundreds of differences between her and the woman she's been pretending to be for almost three years.

But she's learned soon enough that people only see what they want to see.

Obviously the idea of some shameful in-valid misleading them and climbing her way through the ladder to one of the most important positions at USC doesn't occur to them. They see her as someone who lived up to the high expectations her genes formed for her.

A subtle nudge of Quinn's elbow snaps her out of her thoughts, and she quickly tears her eyes away from the portrait on screen, which reminds her every morning what a fraud she is.

She quickly shrugs this heavy feeling off and lifts her chin high as she walks to one of the elevators. Quinn follows her a few seconds later and they step into one with several other young men and woman. They get off at the first floor, leaving her alone with Quinn and her probing eyes. Santana knows she's on the verge of questioning what the hell happened at the gates, but she doesn't really have a proper answer prepared, so she tries to act like it was not a big deal that she lost her typical composed self for a second.

Every miniscule second counts though, every second that she spends in the company of people yearning to own her position at the company, she has to be aware of herself, the way she acts, the way she handles herself.

She escapes Quinn's searching gaze, when the door of the elevator opens and she notices her two other best friends standing in the lobby.

They walk up to them, quickly forgetting about her small slip-up at the security device and they both greet them with wide smiles.

"Hello ladies" Noah bows when they stop in front of them, making everyone chuckle lightheartedly at his playful manners.

A few people stare at them with peculiar expressions, since making friends with other employees at USC is somewhat uncommon. People around here consider their co-workers mostly as their rivals, enemies they have to fight off to get the position or mission they crave.

"I would say gentlemen" Santana tilts her head to the side, pretending to be deep in thought suddenly. "But it would be a huge insult for Sam to be listed in the same category as you." She smirks at Noah.

Quinn and Sam try to hide their smiles, as Noah acts as if he is deeply hurt. But he has clearly no talent in that department, and he quickly gives it up as a wide grin spreads on his face a second later.

"Always a pleasure, my favorite lesbro" He wiggles his eyebrows a little and Santana has the sudden urge to punch him in the face for calling her that at their workplace.

Sure she is his lesbro or wingwoman, or whatever he wants to call it, but people don't know her around here as a big player, not like Noah, who doesn't mind being called the biggest man-whore of USC.

"Guys, stop it!" Sam cuts off their intense stare-down competition. "I have great news. Brittany got the job and she comes in to sign her contract today."

"Aw, I can't wait to finally meet her." Quinn tells him sincerely.

Santana is a quite intrigued by Brittany now, since all Sam could talk about the past couple of days was her old friend, who applied for the position of the director's assistant. He described her like she's the sweetest person he's ever known, very friendly and open.

Not exactly the qualities she would define as her own strengths.

She sounds like a great person, but it makes her feel slightly uncomfortable that she a valid and she is about to become a part of their close circle. She feels threatened by her a little, but she tries to push it away for Sam's sake and be happy for him.

"Yeah, same." She says with a narrow smile when he stares at her expectantly.

"I thought we could all meet for a drink later at the bar. What do you think?" He proposes the idea.

"I'm in." Noah replies quickly, before turning to her. "Have you seen her, dude? She's like the hottest chick I've ever met."

"You've already met her?" She is rather surprised, as she assumed Brittany just arrived in the town yesterday.

"Yeah, Saturday night at the club. She has blonde hair, and long…and I mean really, really long legs" He describes the woman with great enthusiasm.

"Don't talk about her like this, okay? I've known her since I was six, so it creeps me out." Sam shakes his head, clearly disturbed to think about her oldest friend as an attractive woman. "She is off limits, for both of you." He threatens them, pointing at her and Noah.

"That's just so unfair." Noah's face falls and he pouts like a hurt child, which is pretty funny considering he's just been told not to get it on with a woman.

"I'm sure she is really lovely, Puckerman." Quinn smirks. "But everybody knows you prefer brunettes."

The air freezes around them as Noah's expression darkens at her words, until he looks slightly threatening. Santana knows he would never hit a woman, let alone a friend like Quinn, but she gets how someone would be afraid of him walking in a secluded alley at night.

Quinn doesn't deserve to get hit of course, but she sure deserves a lengthy scolding later for bringing up his fondness of Rachel Berry. They never do that, they don't insult or judge the other when it comes to their romantic interests, their love life or the lack of it.

She is grateful Noah can handle her frequent mood shifts and nasty comments decently, otherwise they wouldn't be able to maintain a friendship after their rocky past.

He just glares at her coldly, before turning back to her and Sam.

"I'll see you guys later."

He walks away hurriedly, towards the glass double doors leading to the computer facility.

"That was a bit unnecessary" Sam tells Quinn gently, when he is out of earshot.

"Sorry, I just had a bad night" Quinn bites down on her bottom lip and suddenly she appears to be so broken Santana forgets about the scolding she was about to give her.

"But it's the same for him, you should know that." She just reminds her quietly, and her words are completely true, they are just hard for Quinn to accept.

It comforts her to blame others, her parents or Noah, or sometimes the whole society around them for losing their daughter.

But Noah is hurting too; he simply acts differently and doesn't lash out on people. He tries to keep everything inside, another attribution he shares with Santana.

Their words seem to get to Quinn, her stare hardening as she tries to pull herself together and erase the memory of her baby from her mind just for a little while.

"Right. I'm going to work now. You should come too soon." She tells them, before turning on her heels to walk away in the same direction as Noah a minute ago.

It leaves her alone with Sam and a comfortable silence around them as they break into goofy smiles. Sam is like a younger brother for her and he always surprises how he can turn into playful from dead serious in a split second. But she is pretty similar, she just shows her true self to others more rarely.

"So, I wanted to introduce Brittany to you, but I left her alone for a minute to talk to Mercedes and she disappeared when I came back." Sam explains with an apologetic smile.

It sounds strange that Brittany just simply disappeared in a club she's been for the first time in her life and left Sam, but she doesn't want to make a rude comment.

"You probably wouldn't have found me anyway. I left pretty early."

"Please elaborate." Sam steps a little closer, knowing that she is about to share strictly private information she doesn't want anyone else to hear.

"I picked up a blonde. I mean, she picked me up or whatever. We went to her place and well…" She trails off.

Sam is not like Noah, he doesn't really like talking about the explicit details of their sexual encounters. He doesn't care who she's had sex with or how she's satisfied her latest partner and she appreciates it. Noah is more than enough to handle, but she has to admit it can cause pretty funny situations, when it turns out she is a better lover than him.

"Why do I get the sense there is more to this?" Sam inquires quietly.

It is remarkable how he can read her so easily like an open book, sensing that something happened that night that is still bothering her.

"I fell asleep after." She replies while glancing around them at instinct.

"What?" Sam's eyes widen comically.

"I fell asleep with her. The sex was just out of this world and then I have no fucking idea what happened." She shakes her head in confusion. "But that's enough of me. How's it going with Mercedes?"

Turning the conversation around is always easier and all she wanted to do is share what she's done. She doesn't really need questions about how she feels or stuff like that, because it's hard enough to forget that night already.

Her question makes Sam flustered a little.

"You know, we are pretty casual." He answers vaguely and Santana knows the reason for his reluctance to share the details.

He is not too proud that he engaged in a casual relationship with a woman, because he respects them more than to only use them for sex, but he is clearly still not ready to enter serious relationship.

"Do you feel something for her?" Santana asks carefully.

This territory is dangerous and she probably shouldn't even have crossed that invisible line, but she is awfully curious about this. It would be fascinating to see a valid having feelings for an in-valid, like Mercedes.

She wonders if that's even possible, when Sam clears his throat a bit awkwardly.

"No, not really. I mean…" He searches for the right words for a few seconds. "It doesn't really compare." He tells her with a painful little smile and Santana's heart breaks at the sight.

He's obviously not over Kurt at all, even though it's been months since they broke it off or more like, Kurt ended their affair. Sam was depressed for weeks when it happened and he's still not the same cheerful and careless person he was when she got to know him.

He was practically a big clown, when they entered the training program, but he became a grown-up man at the end of those six months. He was deeply in love with not just simply another man, but his own mentor, Kurt Hummel. The relationship between them was strictly forbidden by the rules of USC and they agreed not to risk their place at the company for a secret romance.

When they started hooking-up for the second time, Kurt was already in a relationship with Blaine Anderson, and their affair ended pretty badly with heart-break on both sides.

"I'm sorry." Santana tells him sincerely.

"Yeah, me too." He shrugs before his face lights up slightly. "Now come on, maybe work will make us forget about our shitty love lives!"

He puts his arm around her shoulders as they start walking towards the computer facility.

"Are you kidding? I've never even had one." Santana chuckles dryly before they open the glass doors.

But the truth is the last thing she really wants to do is laugh at her statement.

/

She is staring at the screen of her computer with sheer concentration while her fingers are hitting the keyboard at an extremely fast pace.

She is happy she could finally get to work not so long ago.

The first few hours of the day were boring, as they had to wrap up the projects they'd been working on before last Friday, when it was announced they would participate in the biggest mission USC has ever planned. It's a one-year long mission to Neptune, the furthest planet from Earth. It involves ten first class navigators and is set to launch on 21st of June, a rather early date, so Santana thought there was no time to waste and she was eager to start working on the flight plan already on Friday.

They quickly finished their on-going projects and a brief meeting was announced to be held with the members of the mission. She was careful to let a neat work station behind and walked to the exclusive area under the round-shaped command console in the middle of the huge circular room.

Nine other people welcomed her with wide smiles, including her three best friends. She was glad the tension between Quinn and Noah seemed to be vanished already.

Ten young adults were present in the room, who were an almost equal split of men and women, and a diverse range of ethnicities.

They all entered the training program at the same time and got promoted to be first class navigators in a record time in the company's history. Even the likes of Rachel Berry or Artie Abrams couldn't achieve what they did so early in their careers.

They were the bests of the bests and she was proud to be one of them.

When the director shook her hand on Friday, it was one of those moments when she felt all the sacrifices in her life were worth it.

She felt the same today in that room, when it was announced to her great surprise that she was chosen to be the captain of the mission.

Now she's working on her flight plan, which must be flawless, if she wants to truly earn her position by the time the mission launches. She still has more than four months to prove she is worthy of the trust they've put into her from the very start at the company.

Her mind is completely occupied by the animation of their spacecraft flying in space at an incredible speed, when someone clears their throat subtly by her side.

She stops her hands on the keyboard and looks up, clearly annoyed to be disturbed while working.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Perez" The very pregnant assistant of the director apologizes sincerely. "The director would like to see you in her office immediately."

The words make her blood stop flowing in her veins as the worst case scenarios enter her mind.

The blonde woman must have decided to find out who she was after all, discovered that she is a fraud, and turned to the authorities. But if that's the case, they surely would have waited for her at the gates in the morning or even more likely burst into her home and dragged her straight into a prison cell. Or maybe the director wanted to have answers first, before letting the cops step into USC, maybe she wanted to know how she was able to deceive almost everyone at the company for years.

She dreads that it's the last time she's being in this place when she stands up from her desk.

She looks around the spacious room, the floor-to-ceiling smoked-glass curved walls offering an amazing view to the bright blue sky, the desks of her fellow co-workers arranged in circles around the command console in the middle and the people behind them catching curious glances at her.

Three sets of worried eyes follow her like a dark shadow when she is escorted out of the room.

/

She is a nervous wreck by the time they enter the area of the director's staff.

She tries to hide her anxiety, but she must be failing miserably as the assistant goes so far to shoot her an encouraging smile before she sits down at her desk and tells her to wait a second. She nervously clutches her skirt with sweating hands, while the woman calls the director to let her know she is here.

The director answers through the phone and she is told she could go in immediately.

A bizarre feeling of calmness wash over her as she becomes sure the career and personal life she's built for the past six years will end tragically in the next few seconds. She will rot in a dark prison cell and everybody will get to know she is a worthless in-valid.

Maybe she will lose even her best friends, as it would be totally understandable if they turned against her in case the truth comes out.

And all of these happen as the consequences of a damned one night stand.

She swears she will never sleep with a woman again, in case she comes through this one time.

She gradually walks to the door and forces herself to appear tough and level-headed as normal, before she grabs the handle of the door. She enters the room and notices the director sitting at her huge desk, the glass walls behind her offering an astonishing view to the perfectly landscaped gardens and clear sky above. It distracts her for a second as she catches the sight of one of their ships flying up into space.

She wishes she was up there already, when the director clears her throat and brings her back to the hard reality.

"There you are." She glances up from the screen of her computer for a brief second. "Have a seat!"

"Director" She greets the woman with a stiff nod, before she sits down and crosses her legs tightly.

She fumbles with her hands impatiently in her lap, while she is waiting on edge for her to reveal the reason she was ordered to come here. There is nothing out of ordinary about her, the way she stares at her screen with a hard expression, as deep wrinkles caused by the constant stress make her look older than others her age.

She can only hope that not her real name and portrait are being displayed on her screen right now.

But even her eyes don't offer her any hints when she looks up at her, so she gives up to figure it out on her own and decides to simply hear the woman out, before she contemplates escaping from the room, or maybe jumping out of the building.

"I have a special task for you." Sylvester tells her after a few excruciatingly long seconds.

Utter relief washes over her with the words, but she quickly recovers. She carefully hides that she's just survived one of the heaviest moments in her life.

"I'm listening, director." She narrows her eyes with utmost attention.

"As you certainly heard already, I have a new assistant from tomorrow." Sylvester explains. "I'm sure you agree that the next few months are going to be crucial in the life of our company, because of your mission, so I need someone out there who I can trust completely."

"I do agree absolutely."

It's not hard to share her view, since she knows for a fact that the next few months are going to be the most crucial ones in her own life, and it's probably similar for the company.

Seeing that there is still no radio connection with the spacecraft of their most important on-going mission, the mission to Neptune is constantly going to be in great danger of canceling. They have to make sure everything goes even better than planned to guarantee they will be able to complete the mission without obstacles, technical or other.

"I need Miss Pierce to be my eyes and ears out there, when I'm doing paper work or having a meeting with board members in here. I want her to know what is going on everywhere." The director continues and it gets slightly confusing.

She is quiet annoyed that she is being so vague and refuses to directly tell her what she has to do.

"I'm not sure how I come into the picture."

"You are always so eager to get directly to the point, aren't you?" Sylvester smirks knowingly. "I want you to show Miss Pierce around and share everything you know about this place with her."

Her eyes widen, because obviously she wouldn't be able to complete this task perfectly. She hides one of the biggest secrets existing at USC, so she might not be the most adequate choice for offering every little detail about the company and its people to the new assistant. The fact that Sam is one of her best friends makes it even more obvious for her that there is a better person for this task.

And most importantly, as the leader of their mission she has plenty of more important tasks to take care of nowadays.

"But the mission…" She tries to argue with a subtle shake of her head.

"I'm perfectly aware that you started working on your flight plan today and you want to concentrate on that, but as much as it pains me to say this, you learned more about this place in three years than I did in almost twenty." Sylvester explains and she has to admit that her words make her a little proud.

She's spent so many hours in the complex after work to simply wander around in the building or sit on the roof, staring at the launching spaceships or the nighttime sky admiringly.

The director's request makes perfect sense and she knows she is in no position to deny her.

"I will handle it, director." She agrees to it with a firm nod.

"I'm a hundred percent sure about it, Miss Perez." Sylvester shoots her a tight-lipped smile. "Now I let you get back to your precious flight plan."

She motions to the door and Santana quickly stands up not to disturb her with her presence in the room longer than necessary.

She makes her way to the door to let herself out, when Sylvester asks "Anita?"

Mildly surprised by her gesture, as she was quiet sure before that the woman called even her children by their last names; she tilts her head to the side to look back at her curiously.

"Thank you" The director's voice is full of sincerity and Santana is perfectly aware how rare it is that she thanks someone for making an effort.

It's their job after all and they have obligations, so it's only natural she doesn't thank them personally for every task they complete.

But this is a special request, a more personal and confidential task she has to handle now.

She smiles at her briefly, before Sylvester cuts off their eye-contact and gets back to work. She intends to do the same as soon as she can, so she quickly exits the room, relieved as their meeting didn't turn out to be a tragic breaking point of her life.

/

The elevator door opens, but she doesn't step out, as her heart starts pounding against her ribcage wildly.

She feels numb.

She can't believe this is happening.

On the same spot Sam was waiting for them in the morning with Noah, he's standing there now with a tall blonde woman, engaged in what seems to be a conversation between two old friends.

She instantly knows what this means.

The blonde hair she's smoothed away from the woman's forehead when she slid down on her body to make her come for the third time and the long, long legs she lifted on her own shoulder when she's wanted to do the same for her.

The same blonde hair, the same long legs, the same flawless woman is standing there only a couple of feet away from her, being casually touched on the waist by one of her best friends.

It can all mean just one damn thing, one huge coincidence.

Something she wasn't prepared for at all.

She's slept with Brittany Pierce.

She's slept with a valid, an old friend of Sam, a new co-worker. She has no idea which of these is the most disturbing. She can't even count the many ways this is inappropriate and wrong.

As she's contemplating her next actions still standing motionlessly in the elevator, the pair of them turn their heads towards the sky.

Sam lifts his free arm and points towards something moving in the air.

A spaceship is flying up, one of the seven missions launching today. She knows the whole schedule by heart of course. Sometimes they are up to twelve launches a day, but today is a slow one with only smaller ships starting less than significant missions.

But it's still a mesmerizing sight they are watching through the glassy roof of the building, how the spacecraft crosses the bright blue sky, the sunlight making it glow as it flies towards space.

Their own mission enters her mind and she can't help but proudly smile to herself knowing there is going to be only one launch on 21st of June. Ten first class navigators are going to be on the ship and everybody who counts in the country is going to be there to watch how they are being launched into the air to start the greatest mission USC's ever done.

The elevator door closing snaps her out of her daydreaming about shaking her in-valid hand with the president of the county and she quickly moves to push back the door a little and step out at last.

As she looks up again she catches the brightest eyes she's ever seen boring into hers.

The sapphire galaxy she wished to see just one more time.

* * *

_**Thank you for reading! Give some feedback! **_

_**Santana and Brittany will have a proper conversation for the first time in the next chapter. :)**_


	3. Part 2

**Thanks everyone for all the adds and nice reviews!**_**  
**_

**I got some great feedback, so I tried to shape this chapter accordingly. You are getting some more detailed explanation about the basic difference between valids and in-valids, so I hope it will be clear now for everyone.  
**

**The usual stufff. Find me on tumblr or livejournal with the name ' emmanuelle-s '.  
**

**I hope you are all excited for Brittany and Santana meeting officially :)  
**

**Enjoy and please review if you have time!  
**

* * *

**Part II**

She can't help but regret that she's ever wished to see these eyes again.

To see Brittany again.

Now she feels like she's asked for this suffering in a way.

Life has thrown some obstacles in her way before and she's faced many challenges, but this situation seems to be way out of her comfort zone.

"Hey"

Her gaze drops to Brittany's parted lips which just uttered the short greeting in a sweet voice and for a passing second she remembers how they tasted, before she forces the memory of Saturday night out of her mind.

She mentally prepares herself for what she expects to be one of the most awkward conversations in her life, before walking closer to them.

"Here you are. We've just been talking about you." Sam tells her enthusiastically.

His words make the hairs rise on the back of her neck as she has no idea which version of hers they've just been talking about. The one, that slept with Brittany and left her place without a word or the one that Sam looks at as a close friend and recently told that Brittany must be off her radar.

Or maybe the in-valid one, that almost fainted from the panic when she was told to go to the director's office before.

Panic she felt because of the horrifying possibility of Brittany revealing her true identity.

"What-What do you mean?" She stammers with wide eyes.

"Just that you're the only one of my best friends I haven't introduced to her yet."

"Oh" She blurts out with relief, before she remembers whose company she's in and composes herself again.

Brittany clears her throat delicately and she snaps her gaze on her face, slowly taking in her features. She is even more stunning in daylight, if that's possible, but she is careful not to show how much she appreciates her beauty.

Sam remains silent while they are staring at each other for excruciatingly long seconds.

"So what are you waiting for, Sam?" Brittany asks him finally, but her eyes don't leave hers, not even for a split second.

"Right." He wrinkles his forehead and Santana can tell he's just sensed there is something going on between them. "So this is Brittany Susan Pierce" He motions to Brittany, whose mouth turns into a soft smile. "And this is Anita Perez" He motions towards her while telling her feigned name to Brittany.

"Nice to meet you finally." Brittany chuckles brightly, before lifting her hand to shake hers.

She's so caught off guard by her slightly teasing tone and joking manners, that it takes a second to react and lift her own hand politely.

When their skins touch, she feels like she's been wrapped up in a warm blanket made from the softest of materials. As she is staring at the mesmerizing contrast of their skin tones, Brittany's warmth creeps into her hand and starts spreading through her whole body.

Goosebumps rise on her arms and she is grateful that the sleeves of her blazer hide the visible reactions of her body she can't seem to control.

She instantly lets go, but as she dares catching a glance at her face she realizes she's too late.

Brittany already noticed.

A simple handshake, such an innocent gesture has such a strong effect on her. It unsettles her and makes her want to run out to her car in the parking lot and drive to the end of the world.

And it makes her want to pull her in for a kiss in the middle of the lobby at her damn workplace at the same time.

"My pleasure." She answers on instinct, before the implications of her words tackle her.

She can feel her face getting flushed as she scolds herself for letting this woman affect her so strongly that she loses control over her own body and even her ever so sharp mind betrays her.

It feels like she can't be the person she has been for years around her.

It confuses her to no end.

Disturbingly, she feels a wide range of things apart from simply being turned on when she thinks about this woman.

She is not supposed to feel anything at all.

"I gotta go now…to work. I'll see you guys later." She throws the words towards them before hurrying away without a second glance.

She can practically feel their eyes boring into her back as she marches through the lobby, forcing herself to walk with her usual confidence. She swears she's never been so eager to get to work in her life and that's a huge statement coming from her.

Only the sight of her neatly organized work station calms her frantic nerves a little.

/

She is sorely distracted while working.

Programming is like therapy for her usually, easily relaxing her but she seems to be helpless this time. She's even made a bewildering mistake in the program code. Luckily, the operators were engaged in a conversation at the command console, so they didn't notice how she's been trying to find where she messed up for almost a whole minute.

She can count on one hand how many times she's made a typo in the computer instructions of their celestial navigations through her three years at the company.

But she can't stop thinking about what might have happened after she left Brittany and Sam in the lobby a few minutes ago.

Brittany must have told him how they've already met before. She can't blame her for being honest with their friend, especially knowing that she was not the one who had reasons to lie, as she was not the one who left without a word.

Her predictions turn into reality when the door is opened and Sam appears in her peripheral vision a few seconds later. She is sure he deliberately picked the longer way to his workstation, not to catch her attention by walking beside her.

It is dismaying.

She dreads that he might not be able to look at her the same way anymore, though what she's done was completely unintentional. At least that she's done it to Brittany, his old friend.

She dares to steal a glance at him.

His expression looks shocked, almost painful, like the imageries of her two friends engaging in passionate sex are haunting him.

She wonders exactly how many explicit details Brittany shared with him, but she can only hope the woman has boundaries. It sure seemed like she doesn't really have any when it comes to having sex with strangers, but maybe she behaves a little differently when it's not just about her own privacy anymore. She gave the impression of being a very open person, seemingly the type who doesn't mind talking at length about their personal life and she didn't really do anything to win her respect, but she hopes Brittany respects her well enough not to deepen the hole she's fallen into.

She can't believe this is the second time she's been completely at the mercy of hers since they met merely two days ago.

All of a sudden, she feels the weight of someone's stare on her and tears her eyes away from her stunned friend to find Quinn looking at her with a weird expression, far too knowing for her taste and even the slightest bit pitiful.

It's only when she pulls up her eyebrows in amusement that it hits her, Quinn knows it too.

Too wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't make the connection earlier. Sam told her she is the last best friend to introduce to Brittany, so they've obviously met already with Quinn and she saw them in the club, so she must have known it the second she's seen her.

She rolls her eyes, irritated by the emotions conveyed on Quinn's face and turns to the screen of her computer, grateful that there is still something she can look at without having an emotional turmoil today.

/

When the familiar composed tune invades the room, signaling the beginning of their lunch break, she is relieved to stop working for a little while.

She suddenly regrets being rude to Quinn before and feels the overwhelming need to talk to her best friend. Quinn must be curious about her meeting with the director too, so she doesn't hesitate to march through the rows hastily and nudge her.

"We gotta talk. Come on!" She tells her firmly, urgency apparent in her voice.

"But the boys-" Quinn holds back with a frown on her face.

"Now, Fabray!" She widens her eyes while grabbing her arm to drag her with some force as she catches the boys approaching them from the corner of her eye.

Quinn realizes that she is actually making a frantic effort to escape from Sam and Noah for some reason and doesn't protest anymore.

She follows her willingly as they leave the room in a hurry.

/

"So you slept with Brittany."

Quinn states the obvious as soon as she cautiously locks the door of the first empty cleaning storage she's found. An idyllic place to have a pleasant discussion about her actions, she inwardly rolls her eyes with annoyance, considering what a big pile of shit they brought upon her.

"Yeah" She murmurs quietly, lifting her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. She steps further into the small packed room and turns her back to Quinn. "This is so fucked up."

The delicacy of this situation worries her. Now she's strongly tied with Brittany in both her professional and private life, a woman she didn't plan to see ever again after Saturday night. There is a great possibility of this situation turning out to be a life-altering one, meaning either that she would lose a treasured friendship over it or she would make a mistake at work she can't ever afford to make.

She drops her hand from her face to stare at the stack of cleaning supplies on the floor.

Her mother's harsh words echo in her mind about how the only job she would ever get at a company like USC is being a cleaning woman and it makes the familiar feeling of disdain and bitterness creep up on her spine.

She feels like the whole world conspired against her.

She feels like a helpless child again.

"It doesn't have to be." Quinn argues kindly, taking a step closer to her. "Look, it was just a one night stand. Everyone will forget about it soon."

Her reasoning is flawed, but Santana appreciates her effort to be comforting. But there is no way everyone will forget about it soon. Judging from Sam's expression when he entered their room, he surely won't.

And he is not the only one.

She knew deep inside it wouldn't be easy to forget that night, but now that it turned out it happened with someone who will constantly be in her close proximity, it will be simply impossible.

As much as she damns this immense mistake now, she truly wished to see her again. Maybe it was more like chasing dreams beyond possibility, but she wished to see her again, to touch her and kiss her again.

Now she could.

Spending a lot of time together in the near future, either just as the two of them at least until she completed her task or in the company of their other friends, she is going to have her chances. She is going to be physically close to her and continuously reminded of what happened between them by her presence.

But maybe Brittany would agree with Quinn, she ponders, maybe she thinks it was just a one night stand too.

Judging from the way she was acting when they got formally introduced, it is more than likely. Her teasing manners were more of the obvious signs, but she caught how her mouth turned into a soft smile when their eyes met and something odd was flickering in her eyes, playfulness or childlike mischief even.

It seemed she didn't harbor any negative feelings towards her and that could only lead to one conclusion.

She has already moved on.

She is over her.

Deep in her muddle over how this inference makes her feel, Quinn entering her private space barely reaches her conscious. It strikes her how close they are all of a sudden, when she clears her throat carefully to get her attention.

"Did you feel-?"

"I didn't feel anything." She crisply cuts off Quinn's hopeless attempt at crossing their invisible line and turning the conversation into a messy heart-to-heart.

She is averse to do that.

It makes her feel weak and dependent, like she is not able to deal with her own goddamn feelings alone.

Quinn is used to her strict boundaries and rarely pushes them. Her effort is reasonable now though, since even she herself would reluctantly admit the fact that she's never been so freaked out for the past two years.

Luckily, her best friend is fairly the same kind as her, so after her one somewhat obligatory try, she resides from pressing her further with the matter.

Seconds pass in silence, as she tries to figure out how to turn the conversation back into safe territory.

"What did Sylvester want?" Quinn asks curiously, cutting off the heavy silence, and yet again completely understanding how her mind works.

Brittany is severely involved in this topic too, but she is not apprised of it yet.

Turning to face Quinn, she realizes that she took a step back, giving her space not only emotionally, but also in a physical form. Her attentiveness warms her heart, making it much easier to formulate words in this improved state.

"She gave me a special task. Apparently I'm the most adequate person to show Brittany around."

Her short summary of what transpired in the director's office causes Quinn to widen her eyes in disbelief. Naturally, being aware of the many secrets Santana hides, the irony of her getting selected to complete this confidential task doesn't go unnoticed by her.

"Really?" She asks with a wry chuckle.

"You heard it right. She wants me to share everything I know about this place with her." She confirms, the absurdity of the situation psyching her out again. "Just fucking imagine what would happen, if I did!"

Pushing the heel of her palms to her closed eyes to ease the dangerously increasing pressure inside her head, she can't prevent the horrifying image of Brittany getting to know her secrets sneaking into her already loaded mind.

"You wouldn't be the only one going down if you did." Quinn whispers so quietly she can barely grasp her words in her turmoil.

When the implications behind them reach her conscious, explosive anger blubbers up in her throat, causing her to drop her hand and glare at her coldly.

"Now you bring up Schuester?" She spats menacingly. "Fuck Quinn, you always know just what I need"

Her painfully sarcastic tone just deepens the expression of utter guilt on Quinn's face, who obviously didn't mean for her words full of hidden meaning to escape her mouth.

"I'm sorry." She apologizes, her sincerity obvious in her deep hazel eyes. After waiting a couple of seconds she continues. "Look, you have to seriously calm down first. After that, you will tell Brittany everything you're comfortable with and then you can move on. You can both move on and forget that night."

Rationality has always helped her climbing out of these deep holes life constantly seems to dig for her, but Quinn's always so impeccably sharp logic cannot be applied here. She wisely defined what would be the right path for her, but it proceeds from a wrong starting base.

As she denied having any kind of feelings about that night, Quinn can rightfully be under the impression sleeping with Brittany meant nothing more than sex to her. It is not true, but the way she outlined for her is the only possible one existing here, so she decides to convince herself with sheer force about it in the near future.

Maybe in time she would easily believe it was just sex.

Not right now though, she points out inwardly with discontent, the memories are too fresh still to do so.

Time and distractions, she decides these would help her best to be able to forget.

"I'm gonna go back to work now." She informs Quinn, as work is obviously the only productive distraction existing here. The other ways, sex and alcohol are not available right now and she would be a hypocrite to escape into those when she always tries to avert her friends from taking that kind of rough path.

"You can't avoid Sam forever." Quinn points out, misinterpreting her main reason to escape into work instead of spending the remaining time of her lunch break with her friends.

"I won't." She says reassuringly, while passing by her to reach the door. "The meeting with Sylvester set me back on my plan for today and I'm not hungry anyway."

"Right."

Quinn's tone manifests she can easily see right through her excuses, but she doesn't make a comment.

"See you later." She says quietly, before unlocking the door and glancing around carefully to see if anyone is around.

When the air is clear, she exits the storage, not sure whether her heart feels less heavy or not after their conversation.

/

Her old self returns for the first time in days when she sits down at her work station. Eyes set on the screen of her computer, her fingers find the keyboard and she continues working on her flight plan.

A bubble forms around her as she's giving instructions to the program in a code language simply inextricable for those who haven't learned it for months. Alongside the columns, a three dimensional animation appears on the screen, the representation of how their ship is moving in space according to her precise instructions.

Finding the best approach is her goal.

Like a surgeon, who tries to find the perfect approach to the heart while carefully navigating around the other organs, only her scalpel is a spacecraft and the heart is the planet Neptune.

A scalpel cannot be ruined by anything present in a person's chest of course, but space means countless potential dangers to their spacecraft and the ten navigators in it, therefore her responsibility at finding the best approach is not even comparable to a surgeon's. Not only is the life of one person at stake here, but the lives of the ten most outstanding first class navigators of USC and of course, the whole company.

The weight of such responsibility should easily be handled by valids of course and according to the knowledge of everyone but four people at this company, she is a valid too.

Everyone presumes she was conceived the same way as them.

The typical story nowadays is that when a man and a woman decide to have a baby, their first way doesn't lead to the bedroom, but to the waiting room of their local genetic counseling office instead.

Valid babies are created by geneticists.

They are playing God, creating new lives by fertilizing the woman's extracted eggs with the man's sperm. After an analysis of the pre-embryos, a couple of candidates without any predisposition for major inheritable diseases remain in the contest, for the parents to pick the most perfect one. Color of skin, hair and eyes are usually specified and such conditions as alcoholism, obesity or myopia are eliminated.

Gender can also be chosen, of course, though the government is strict about maintaining a healthy balance between genders to guarantee the sustainability of the society.

After the baby is born, everything is virtually guaranteed for their life. They all have the most important physical and intellectual gifts, and the appearance required for achieving everything in their careers and private lives.

They are as close as a human being could ever get to perfection.

Her story, well, it couldn't be any more different than theirs.

From being conceived without her parents' intention to make a baby, through her mother refusing to get an abortion and her grandparents forcing her father to immediately marry her, those nine months before she was born was just the beginning.

It just became worse.

Not surprising at the slightest bit, her birth wasn't the most joyous event of her parents' life. Many years before, she would have been considered a perfectly healthy and normal baby, when she finally came to the world.

But nowadays all it takes is just a drop of blood from the newborn's heel and the analyzing machine quickly shatters the hopes and dreams parents may have had for their in-valid child.

Her parents didn't have any.

Still, the ninety-nine percent probability of their daughter dying at the age of thirty from a heart attack was slightly disappointing.

When it turned out she was born with myopia and she had to wear glasses, her parents couldn't pretend she was a valid anymore. They didn't bring her to parties after that, instead they called her grandparents to look after her. They were always willing, since they were the only ones in the family truly loving her.

When her grandmother died, she was devastated.

Her grandfather was the only one she left a note for when she escaped from home at the age of eighteen.

She's still wearing the necklace he gave her every day.

This very day is no exception, one of the most chaotic ones in her life. The weight around her neck reminds her that she has to be strong, because she promised to her grandma when she was dying that she would make her dream come true.

She promised her they would meet again when she flies up to the stars.

The fulfillment of her dream is being displayed by the animation on her screen right now. Her fingers fly on the keyboard as she is typing her instructions, incredible pace and precision typifying her work like usual.

Her co-workers gradually return to their work stations, signaling that the end of their lunch break is coming, but she couldn't care less as the undiminished concentration pushes everything else out of her mind.

/

She is still sitting at her desk an hour after working hours.

Her friends didn't disturb her when leaving, as it's considered unprofessional to communicate about private matters while working. Polite manners like saying goodbye to others when leaving a place are not as important as preserving the strictly professional attitude expected at USC.

Her eyes are glued to the screen, mesmerized by the animation evolving on it, when someone suddenly touches her shoulder.

She jerks her head up to see one of the older operators smiling down at her.

"Miss Perez, it's seven o'clock." He motions to his watch. "It's enough work for today. Even us valids need some rest sometimes" He chuckles casually and pats her on the shoulder, before turning on his heels to walk out of the room, leaving her to be the only one remaining.

She reluctantly exits the program and turns off her computer, before checking around her work station to make sure she leaves it in an impeccable state, without any apparent sign that an in-valid was using it for the last eight hours.

Even a miniscule eyelash could easily reveal her secret.

So in fact, her precaution doesn't only serve the purpose of satisfying the cleaning staff.

/

In her car, she checks her phone to be welcomed by several missed call and a few messages enquiring about her well-being and where-about.

She is excited to see a message from Sam asking if they could talk. Nervous about the topic of the conversation, she decides it would be the best to just get it over with as soon as she can.

"Hi" She breathes into the phone as soon as he picks it up.

"Hey. Where are you?" Sam asks, his tone not offering her any clues about his mood.

"I just finished working. I got into my car and saw your message, so…"

A second passes in silence and air in the car suddenly feels suffocating, as she clutches the phone tightly to her ear, eager to hear him speak.

"Look, I know you're worrying, but I'm not angry at you. I was just a little shocked, you know."

She breathes out with relief after hearing his words. Shocked is pretty much understandable in Sam's case, as he could have had no idea her two friends knew each other, let alone had sex with each other.

But worry is still present in her as she doesn't know the details of his conversation with Brittany yet.

"Um, how much do you know exactly?" She inquires after licking her lips anxiously.

"Brittany told me you met in the club, after I left her alone and you went to her place and uh…slept together." Sam recalls the conversation awkwardly.

She is not sure if that's just a short summary or Brittany really didn't share everything with him and she is awfully curious about it.

"She didn't tell you what happened after?"

"What? Why, what happened after?" Sam asks, the sudden alarm raising his voice.

Judging from his question, he has no idea what happened after the part of them having sex.

Brittany really didn't tell him after all. She has no idea why, but she didn't.

She truly appreciates her discreetness, but she knows no other way than being completely honest with Sam.

"I kind of left without a word." She admits, her voice cracking weakly.

"Hmm, that's strange. Maybe she thought I would think less of you if I knew." Sam ponders and his reasoning makes an awful lot of sense.

It's a scary possibility.

"Do you?" She whispers, hating that she can't see Sam's face right now.

"No, we've talked about this Santana. I get why you leave and you didn't know who she was, so…can we just move on?" Sam pleads with her, sounding tired of the topic.

She wants to make sure to clear the air completely though.

"But I just want you to know that if I knew then I would have never…"

"Stop it!" Sam cuts her off abruptly. "What happened is between you and Brittany. Obviously I care about both of you and don't want you to get hurt. But even if you hurt her, you would still be my best friend. So I hope you're in for tonight." He tells her with hope, but the uncertainty is obvious in his voice.

But he has no reason to be nervous about tonight anymore.

It seems no one has.

Brittany didn't seem to bear her a grudge and Sam took the news well. Now all she has to do is rise to their level and act like a good person.

"I'll be there. Thanks Sam!"

"Nah, you don't have to thank me." He teases her. "Just be nice to her, Sanny!"

She rolls her eyes at his childish manner of calling her by the despised nickname.

"Don't call me -"

The line cuts off suddenly with Sam's distant laughter being the last sound she hears and she can't hold back a wide smile spreading on her face.

She decides to go directly to the bar, as a drive to home and back into the city center would take too much time. She starts the engine, hoping the night will go as smoothly as she hopes.

/

Being the first one to arrive at _Eris_, she makes her way to sit at the bar until one of her friends appears.

The place is as deserted as usual. Smoky air, worn furniture and minimal decoration characterize her favorite bar. It has an edge, a special atmosphere mainly caused by the dim lights and the constantly played beautiful jazz music in the background.

Most people don't like special things nowadays though, so only a few are frequenters here apart from the four of them, and unsurprisingly they are not from USC. They are harmless strangers and that's the main reason they prefer this bar to the fancy ones in the city.

She slides on a stool and waits for Michael to finish serving another guest.

When she looks at him, she always gets this weird feeling that she belongs here.

Michael is an in-valid, the same kind as her, but the main difference between them is that he was meant to be conceived in the natural way, in pure love. He is part of a traditional family, one of the few, who strictly refuses using the advanced genetic technology for procreation.

He is also a widower with an almost three year old son.

"Michael." She greets him, when he finally appears in front of her. "A double scotch please."

"I kind of memorized it by now." A faint smirk frames Michael's lips before he turns away to grab a bottle of classic Scotch whisky.

"Are you implying that I'm boring?" She asks while pulling up her eyebrows dramatically.

He chuckles, before turning back to her.

"I don't know. Am I?" He winks, before sliding the glass in front of her.

She takes a gulp instantly and shivers at the alcohol burning her tongue. The nice feeling of warmth spreads in her chest as she sets her glass back on the wooden bar.

"So how is it going? Everything all right with little Mike?"

Michael Chang Jr. is the most beautiful kid she's ever seen, though he is also kind of scary, because his inquiring look always makes her think he has a magical way of figuring out her secrets.

"Yes, thank you." Michael smiles kindly. "And you? Drinking alone tonight?" He asks nonchalantly, but she knows the hidden meaning behind his seemingly innocent question.

She's observed many of their conversations recently. The stolen longing looks, the subtle touches and the hours of talking all lead to the same conclusion.

"Do you mean more like…" She licks her lips, before continuing in a lower voice. "…are you here without Quinn tonight?"

Michael stiffens, his usual carefree expression hardening as he stops cleaning a glass.

"I asked a simple question. There is no reason to be mean." He replies quietly.

It seems like women are still a sore spot for him. She feels guilty for hurting him with her insensitivity, but all she really means is for him to know that she would be okay with him having feelings for Quinn.

They would be right for each other, but the possibility of them ever getting together is small, as they can't even admit they are interested in each other romantically.

"Sorry, you know I'm an ass and I had hell of a day." She brings up the lame excuses before flashing an apologetic smile to him.

Michael just shrugs, accepting her apology, before something catches his eyes. She takes another gulp of her scotch, and stares at the ice cubes melting into the brownish drink in her glass.

"Well, I'm sure Noah will lift your mood a little."

Michael's words catch her attention again and she instantly turns towards the door to see Noah shooting them a crooked grin.

He walks to the bar and shakes Michael's hand before sitting down at the stool next to hers.

"Hey." He turns to her finally and it strikes her all of a sudden how he is the only one left who doesn't know the big revelation of the day, well, in case Quinn or Sam hasn't told him already.

But he sure would have greeted her differently, if he did.

"I slept with Brittany." She blurts out, causing his eyes to widen comically.

"Dude, I told you not to do it at USC. I swear they have hidden cameras even in the toilets." He shakes his head comically.

She is not sure if he is joking or he really can be so dumb to assume she would have sex with someone at their workplace.

"For God's sake Puckerman, I didn't mean today. It turned out she was the blonde I slept with Saturday night." She enlightens him before finishing her drink.

Realization falls hard on him, and his expression turns into suspiciously enthusiastic.

"And how was she?" He asks, lowering his voice.

"Don't be a pig." She smacks his arm.

"Ouch, it's called natural curiosity and we always share the details." He looks deeply hurt, like she's just stolen his favorite toy from him.

"But this is different. She is Sam's friend." She explains to him. "And I mean…you really can't tell? Just think of those legs."

"Whose legs?" She jumps up from her stool a little as someone asks from behind her back.

She turns around to meet hazel eyes staring at her teasingly, Quinn looking very much pleased with herself.

"Jesus, Quinn, you scared the hell out of me."

"You deserved it. You forgot that you brought me to work and I had to ask this one here for a lift home." She points her chin towards Noah before shrugging. "So whose legs are we talking about?" She smirks meaningfully.

"Hers." Noah replies, his eyes glued to something behind her.

Sam and Brittany are walking towards them when she turns around to take a look. Her eyes instantly start wandering around Brittany's body and her lips suddenly feel dry as she takes in her perfect features. Her classic little black dress hugs her form tightly, not leaving much to the imagination.

Her memories still fresh and very much detailed in her mind, she wouldn't need to use her imagination anyway.

She forces her eyes to rise to her face and she is yet again greeted by blue eyes boring into hers with a kind of unsettling openness reflecting in them. Brittany's mouth turns into a bashful smile and surprisingly, a faint blush colors her cheeks as she drops her eyes to the floor.

This is the first time Brittany acts self-conscious around her.

She doesn't know what to think of the revelation that she is not the only one being intensely affected here.

"Hi guys." Sam says cheerfully, when they stop in front of them.

"Hey" Brittany flashes them a wide smile, before her eyes settle on her face again.

"Hey" Noah and Quinn greet them back, but she can only offer a timid nod.

"So I guess everyone here knows Brittany already" Sam smites his hands together.

"Some of us better than the others" Noah wiggles his eyebrows at her, causing her to roll her eyes in frustration.

"You mean Sam, right?" Brittany asks with a completely oblivious expression and everyone looks at her with incredulous eyes, until she has to bite down on her bottom lip to hide her smile.

Everyone breaks into lighthearted chuckles at her joking manners, apart from Santana.

She is embarrassed and she has no idea how Brittany can be so unaware to the awkwardness of this situation of everyone knowing what happened between them.

"We should sit to a table." Quinn proposes and everyone agrees, so she reluctantly stands up to follow them.

She is contemplating on whether to sit next to Brittany or opposite to her, since her close proximity and her intense stare both seem to bother her and make it impossible to control herself.

Opposite to her it is, as it's the only empty seat with everyone taking the other four at their table.

The topic of their conversation quickly turns from the happenings of the day to the happenings of Brittany's life.

She is mostly observing and only opening her mouth to talk, when someone addresses her directly with their words. When it comes to the story of her own life, she blatantly lies of course, her manners so natural for her three friends, their eyes don't even flicker when she tells Brittany where she came from.

It hurts to lie more than usual, because Brittany seems to have a sincere interest in her as she listens to her answer attentively. Her eyes are very similar to Sam's, like she can read her effortlessly, but in this case it doesn't warm her heart that someone can see right into her soul.

No, the possibility of Brittany ever knowing her secrets sends an icy shiver down her spine.

It confuses her deeply why she fears the judgment of this woman so much.

/

It takes another couple of minutes until she feels the sudden need to escape.

She excuses herself to go back to the bar for another drink and waits for Michael to return from the storage in the back. She absentmindedly traces her fingers along the cracks of the wooden bar, when someone invades her peripheral vision.

Brittany is looking at her with a tense expression.

"I hoped we could talk in private for a bit." Hopefulness is apparent in her voice, the look in her blue eyes matching her tone.

Having absolutely no clues about what she might want to talk about, she gulps as her nerves are blubbering up in her throat.

"Um, okay." She agrees to it with a stiff nod.

Brittany slides on a stool gracefully and turns to her with her whole body, like she's aiming to open up to her and her body seems to be completely in sync with her intention.

She leans to the stool next to hers and crosses her arms protectively, also for the purpose of hiding her twitching fingers. It feels like she's just gulped down a strong double espresso, her heart racing in her chest as she's waiting impatiently for her to speak.

"I can see that I make you uncomfortable" Brittany shrugs like she's just stating the obvious. "So if this is too weird for you, I can simply ask Sam to show me around." Disappointment laces into her gentle voice and it makes her feel remorseful for not making a better effort at behaving pleasantly.

Brittany seems to be under the impression that she is the sole reason of her distress.

It's true, but not for the reason she probably thinks so.

She feels unable to let go around her, like she means a constant threat to lose her control over herself in her presence.

It wouldn't be surprising if she did, because this is how it all started.

When their eyes first met in the club, she felt this undeniable pull, this urgent need to get close to her. The alcohol made her less aware of how dangerous it is to give in to such temptations in her case, but remembering how she felt when she woke up beside for in the morning, it's clear she can't ever let her guard down around her again.

But she doesn't seem to request anything like that from her now. She simply seems to hope that she could behave like an adult.

"No, there's no need." She shakes her head. "I promised the director."

"She wouldn't know." Brittany says quietly, offering her a way out still.

It strikes her Brittany would go so far as lying to her boss just to save her from the possibly awkward situation.

They search each other's eyes, trying to get a clue what the other is thinking and the still intact glint of hope in Brittany's makes her swallow the word 'yes' wanting to erupt from her.

She has no right to encourage Brittany to lie to the director, just because she can't handle being around her.

Brittany deserves that she at least does her best and tries.

"No. It's okay, really." She shrugs with a tight-lipped smile.

Brittany's mouth breaks into a much more sincere smile and gratefulness shines from her face.

Michael cuts off the little moment they share, appearing behind the bar again. He wordlessly takes her empty glass and fills it up with her favorite drink again.

Brittany stays beside her, making her anxiety heighten again as it seems they are not finished with the conversation.

She is not the only one getting this impression, as Michael leaves immediately with an amused expression after setting the glass in front of her. She takes a gulp and carefully steals a glance at Brittany, who seems to be hauled down by the weight of her thoughts.

"Do you regret what happened between us?" She asks suddenly, dropping her eyes to the floor.

Funny how all she could think about today is how much she regrets what she's done that night. She most seriously regrets breaking her own rules, drawing attention to herself, risking her professional career and her private life.

But trailing her eyes over the gloomy expression on Brittany's face, she knows there is only one honest answer to her question.

What happened between them, her choice of words in the question clearly refers to the kissing, the touching, and the moving against each other's naked skin to get over the edge and repeating it for two more times.

And those she doesn't regret the slightest bit.

As she is thinking about how to formulate an answer not to sound too enthusiastic, but still determined about the conviction of her words, Brittany's expression turns plainly upset. She must think she's just dragging out her answer, because she doesn't want to hurt her with the inevitable admittance.

Her instincts make her act boldly and she touches her hand to catch her attention, breaking through the walls of Brittany's agonizing expectations.

Wide eyes shoot up from the floor in astonishment and she instantly drops her hand in embarrassment. Again she has no idea how Brittany could cause her to act out like this with something as trivial as a saddened expression, but she felt this overwhelming need to wipe it off of her pretty face.

She shakes her head firmly as an answer and the relief pouring out of Brittany is worth losing her control for a second.

Her curiosity rises suddenly and her throat feels dry, though she's just taken a gulp from her scotch.

"Do you?" She asks back, hating how her voice cracks.

"Not even a second of it." Brittany replies without any hesitancy.

Her eagerness seems to surprise even her for a little, and the light shade of rose returns to her pale cheeks.

Santana is rather stunned by her response, as she has to admit she would have been slightly offended, or even hurt if Brittany had done what she did to her.

It bugs her how she can be so carefree about it.

"But I left you without a word." She blurts out, frowning. "How can you not be angry at me?"

It seems her aching curiosity easily climbs over her walls and causes her mouth to let out questions she doesn't really mean to share. She is sure people are not supposed to discuss their one night stands like this, but their case is pretty rare and Brittany doesn't seem to be bothered by her question.

"You gave me one of the best nights of my life." Brittany tells her with a soft smile. "I admit I would have enjoyed having you longer in my bed, but I guess I got what I signed up for when I kissed you without a word."

She chuckles lightheartedly and the sounds make Santana's chest loosen until she feels comfortable in her body for the first time today.

"So, um, no hard feelings?" She asks wide hopefulness.

"Nope." Brittany shakes her head confidently. "I really hope we can be friends, you know."

Getting to be friends would be a long and hard journey for them, which seems almost impossible to finish. She knows they could only be real friends if she was honest with her, if she told her the secrets she hides, and that prospect makes her nauseous already.

"Yeah." She breathes out, her voice strained by her pressuring thoughts.

She forces a smile up on her face to be convincing and hopes Brittany will take it.

They settle into a silence and it bothers her how Brittany stares at her gratefully beaming, so she empties her glass quickly to avoid her eyes.

She sets the glass on the bar and clears her throat uneasily as Brittany's intense stare flusters her.

"Uh, we should probably go back."

Brittany nods in agreement, so she turns towards their table, only to be stopped by Brittany's hand catching her elbow.

Her eyelids flutter closed when her sweet breath hits the side of her neck. She is so close her lips are almost grazing her tingling skin, but she is still too far for her liking.

For a split second she imagines her leaning in to ease her ache and pressing a heavenly kiss on her neck.

"Thank you" Brittany whispers and she almost faints from the lust apparent in her voice.

She tilts her head to the side to meet her eyes and their noses almost touch, their breaths mingling in the air, thick from the palpable tension between them.

Darkened blue eyes stare back at her penetratingly, and the mysterious gleam in them makes her feel like the whole galaxy is brought down to Earth by this woman.

* * *

**Hope you liked it! Give me some feedback! :)**

**So in the next chapter we will get a bit more info about Brittany and her life, also about USC's most important on-going mission involving Rachel and other ND characters.  
**


	4. Part 3

_**Thanks everyone for the support, the adds and reviews!  
**_

_**I have to announce that next I'm gonna finish my other story, "Ain't no limit to what love allows" before concentrating fully on this fic, so the next chapter might come after a bit more wait.  
**_

**_I hope you will enjoy this chapter! Please make me happy and give me some feedback! :)_  
**

* * *

**Part 3**

She's gotten used to her dreams replaying everything that happens to her before falling asleep, making it feel like she's lived the experiences through all over again and hasn't slept a second at all.

This time though, the dream isn't unwelcomed.

Some minor details changed, she recalls with a frown while rolling to her side, like the length of Brittany's dress.

In the dream, it caused her to grab her glass so tight her knuckles turned white.

Brittany took the flirting to a whole new level in her fantasy-like dream, but still, it felt nothing like the way she shot suggestive glances at her after they sat back to their friends or how she subtly touched her arm, when they said goodbye to each other, agreeing to meet early the next day.

Those things were real.

They were real and they leave her thinking she has bad chances to survive today, if Brittany doesn't stop.

The most bothering thing is that maybe she doesn't even mean it, maybe this is her natural behavior. It is possible that she simply isn't aware of the implications of how she acts or maybe she just likes to tease her and laugh behind her back at how flustered she can make her.

It's embarrassing.

She reminds herself that today, she is not going to be saved by the safety her friends' presence offer her, since they are going to take a little tour around the complex. They are not going to be surrounded by co-workers, but every step they take is going to be captured by the hundreds of cameras hidden at random places at USC.

She has to control herself, much better than last night.

Without opening an eye, she fusses on the nightstand and grabs her glasses.

She is quite annoyed she has to use them, but wearing lenses in public all the time is tiring for her eyes, so she has to cast aside her disdain for the item that never fails to remind her of the expression of unreserved displeasure on her parents' face, when it turned out she has myopia.

Her glasses set on the bridge of her nose, she takes in the view her small window offers her.

The sun hasn't risen yet.

Dawn surrounds her still, the comfort of its darkness soothing her mind. When there is no light, secrets can stay hidden from prying eyes and she has a lot to hide.

Most people would be annoyed to wake up at such early time of the day, but she's gotten used to it, like all the other sacrifices she has to make. It's a minor one, the constant lack of sleep. She tries to make up for it on weekends, but her ever-so-analyzing mind doesn't help her rest too long, turning the sleeping time meant for purely relaxing into the draining experience of living through the recent events of her life all over again.

Her body is fit enough to bear the consequences following these dreams the next day, the aching muscles never bother her, nothing a swim or a light workout can't heal until the next morning comes.

The exhaustion of her mind is the true matter here.

She can't turn it off, though she wishes it would work like that. She can't will herself to forget everything by closing her eyes and letting the darkness overcome her. Images of her day start popping up and she can't help but try to analyze what she's done right and wrong that day.

The dramatic movie continues to play after she's fallen asleep.

But this morning, she is so overcome with anticipation over the day, she doesn't even feel the usual weariness.

/

Coffee is still a must though. Not a chance she would reject a morning espresso, even if she's already buzzing with rarely experienced energy.

Her heart rate reaches an unhealthy level after the double shot, but she doesn't mind, it makes her feel alive. She has no interest in watching the news channel this morning, she couldn't concentrate on what is happening around the world anyway and she would probably feel the usual disgust by hearing the latest researches in modern genetic technology.

She is always reminded how flawed and disadvantageous she is compared to the constantly increasing majority of the population, the valids. News editors never fail to show her how slight her chance is to grow old and die during a peaceful sleep, showing disheartening statistics of accidents and disorders leading to deaths of in-valids, proving how superior valids are.

It also serves the purpose of subtly encouraging young couples who consider having a child to choose the way that has become the 'natural way' over the past two decade or so, and those unlucky girls who got pregnant without intention to do so to get an abortion financed by the government.

After all, it is just a mistake and the government is keen to help making it right.

This is what the world evolved into, she reflects with bitterness creeping into the pleasantly sour taste of quality dark coffee, filling her mouth.

It makes her stomach churn, so she tries to avert these depressing thoughts and gets up from the kitchen island to prepare a healthy breakfast. Eggs, toasts, yoghurt and fresh fruits are on the usual menu. It's hard for her to eat so much morning after morning, so much that sometimes it makes her almost sick when she has to force the food down her throat. She would happily start the day with only a cup of strong coffee, but as an astronaut it's her obligation to keep her body fit, so she needs the energy the food gives her.

She would gain weight easily by the amount she eats a day, but the mandatory weekly gym hours make sure it turns into muscles. Her body is ripped, her torso especially, but that's not how it's always been. She was constantly struggling with her weight and her numerous body issues since her childhood.

In her teenage years, she was bulimic.

Similarly to any other problem she had, her parents were completely oblivious to this one, but she couldn't blame them really, as she always made sure to turn the water on, when she was emptying her stomach after their dinner, usually consumed in awkward silence. Her tear-stained cheeks after each occasion were hidden behind the closed door of her bedroom, the suffocating guilt and sorrow bringing her to a place much darker even than the pitch-black room.

When her grandmother discovered her secret, her expression was so furious Santana tilted her head to the side and waited for the inevitable slap on her cheek.

She received a hug instead, and words whispered into her ear about how beautiful she is in a cracking voice, foreign to her before. Her adored grandma's tears wetted her temple as she promised her she would help her fight it, she would be there all the way until she believes she is perfect, inside and outside too.

She still refuses to believe that, but she at least managed to get rid of her eating disorder, after months with a specialist. All the effort was worth it, when her grandmother told her she was proud of her after the first Sunday lunch in years when she didn't excuse herself to the bathroom after being finished.

Now she feels no urge to stick her finger down her throat when she leaves the kitchen after the full meal.

/

Catching a glimpse at the clock on her nightstand, she becomes anxious, because she is already behind in her morning routine. She must have got wrapped up in her thoughts while eating, and now she has to make up for the pointlessly wasted time.

As quick as she can, she strips bare and steps back into her slippers, then grabbing her robe she walks into a room, almost unrecognizable to normal human beings. Living this out of ordinary kind of lifestyle, she doesn't feel strange looking at the stainless-steel sink or bathtub in her bathroom.

It means only a slight discomfort that she has to scrub the skin of her whole body raw with a wire brush before she can shower, letting the water ease the sensitive skin. Her movements are close to being over-scrupulous, her focus solely on making sure she washes off every miniscule skin follicle that might pose a threat by falling off at the wrong place during the day. It would also make her life easier if she cut her hair, but there are things her pride doesn't let her give up, her feminine long locks being one of them. The headaches caused by the tight bun she has to wear her hair in through the day are a small price to pay.

The routine turns even more bizarre, when she exits the metal tank through the thick, fireproof door and pushes a button, releasing gas into the chamber.

She is mesmerized by the sight of the flames burning her own flesh.

/

The crucial part comes after she's done with her hair.

Exiting the bathroom with only her robe and slippers on, she quickly walks to what's supposed to be the living room, only it hardly looks like one. It is her own little factory, where she can turn herself physically into the person acceptable to maintain her life style.

The equipment was expensive, but she could quickly pay back the debt from the salary she got at USC.

Drawing on protective gloves, she opens one of the stainless steel refrigerators and gets surprised to find only labeled jars and pouches containing yellowish and red liquid. Panicked, she quickly opens the other one beside and revealed to find what she's searching for.

Her mind is all over the place, so much that she simply forgot what she's put into the two metal, industrial-style refrigerators.

She takes out a tray with strictly arranged rows of fingertip sachets on it, each one containing a drop of blood.

Not her blood, of course.

Closing the refrigerator and detaching the gloves, she picks up one sachet and plasters it onto the pad of her index finger, before repeating the smooth movement with her middle finger. She carefully applies darker make-up, matching the skin of her finger to cover up the sachet.

This is the single most important part of her morning routine, because the drop of valid blood now attached on her fingertip guarantees the access into USC every morning.

She is one huge step, one huge and essential step closer to appear as a person deserving to cross the gates of the prestigious company's building. Her fingertips look untouched, appearing in their natural state, proving how she's become an expert at covering up the signs on her body indicating she is not one of those people who are meant to be working at the company, where she's striving to succeed.

It would be an effortless progress, if the drop of deep red liquid in the sachet was hers and the rest of it too, flowing in her veins.

But she was not lucky to be blessed with the gift of being fated to overcome challenges easily like most of her mates. Everything she's been achieving in her career is the consequence of countless efforts made with sweat and blood, and sacrifices causing her to be ashamed when she looks into the mirror.

The difference it would have meant in her whole life is incomprehensible.

She wishes with every cell in her body it was her own blood.

/

Picking up her outfit for the day is not one of the harder tasks.

Many similar, sharp cut suits line up in her wardrobe, sleek and modern in design, but disturbingly inconvenient to wear for hours of work. Shades of grey and black dominate, dark colors being the general preference of the employees at USC.

There is nothing edgy on the suit she picks out, the true stunner lies in the package containing it.

A plastic bag it is, guaranteeing the clothing items stayed impeccably clean since the dry-cleaning service finished cleaning them. Confidentiality is a huge factor in such services, but she has no choice other than trusting them. The huge amount of money she pays them every week is helping her handle the dependence better.

The money makes her think she has control over the matter, but the truth is, she's still exposed, painfully so.

She's constantly in danger, being at other people's mercy and she has to give in order to get their silence. Money is easy to lose, but once upon a time the price is too much to pay to survive the sacrifices undamaged.

Smoothing away the creases on her skirt while staring at her reflection in the mirror, she convinces herself that those rare occasions are still worth it.

/

The highway is far from being crowded.

It's no surprise, since they agreed to meet two hours before work starts and most of the employees are rolling to their other sides in their beds to rest for a little while at such early hour of the day.

Concentrating on driving would help her loosen up, but the lack of cars on the road enables her to drift away a little from the monotonous activity and her mind starts wandering in the same direction like the past few days.

But today is different.

Now she can add a name to the image of the woman and much else, like stories of her life, tidbits of information about what kind of person she is. Memories of yesterday make the vision projected on the windshield more detailed and real than before, when all she had were the imageries of their night spent together.

That's the best memory, and right the one she has to forget.

Brittany didn't really help last night.

Truthfully, she just made her struggle harder.

Without speed limit, her car is shearing through the chilly morning air, the fresh greens of the fields alongside the road and the crystal blues of the sky coalescing until all she can see is the picture of Brittany surrounded by the mess of bright colors.

She fastens even more, deciding that fantasizing has no point and maybe she's the one who's making her effort worthless by replaying their shared experiences over and over in her head.

Maybe it's all on her.

It's entirely possible that she's just projecting and Brittany doesn't mean to remind her of their first experience together and imply that she might be up for repeating it.

All she is sure about is that either way, she's going crazy if it doesn't stop.

/

"What are you still doing here? You should have left two hours ago." She sneers at a young in-valid boy, who's washing the glass walls immaculately clean around the entrance.

"I'm sorry Miss." The innocent red-haired blushes under her penetrating stare and she eases up a little watching the poor boy hurrying up his methodical movements.

After all, it's surely not his fault they are awfully behind schedule.

Preparing to give a lengthy scolding to the leader of the cleaning staff, she steps into the huge building and instantly looks around to find the man guilty for making a mistake in the system of USC. Behind the obvious reason, there's a more selfish motive in her wanting to rough the man up.

Maybe a little yelling would help relieving the stress built up in her through the morning.

The feel of superiority, though it's false, would give her the kind the self-confidence needed to survive the two hours she's going to spend with Brittany.

When her sharp eyes find the old man, she forgets the reason she was searching for him in the first place.

She is struck by the oddity of the whole scene, Brittany wearing a navy blue skirt with a bright blue blouse matching the stunning color of her eyes and speaking animatedly with the in-valid leader of the cleaning staff.

She's never seen someone wearing actual colors at USC.

It's her first day and she's already breaking the unwritten rules of the company. Sure enough, everybody passing her will take a second look just to make sure their eyes don't deceive them and somebody is brave enough to show some personality at the place that's the epitome of how their society works.

They are vehemently encouraged to act the same way, even the minor details of their lives to be similar like what they're eating or what they're wearing.

Appearance is a key factor in their society, rotten from deep within by the shallowness.

And there is someone daring to be different.

However bizarre for her eyes, it seems natural for Brittany to have a chat with a stranger, an in-valid stranger on the top of it. She seems unaware of how rare it is for a woman like her to engage in a conversation with a man from the lowest of social classes.

Aside from her complete cluelessness on how things work around here, Santana finds her behavior charming and strangely refreshing.

She sure needs a lesson on how to act at the company though, because being singled out from the first day by her closed-minded colleagues for her odd behavior would be the worst start. Changing her is not her intention, because however weird she finds it, her openness is appealing to her for different reasons. It makes her feel she would be treated no differently by her, if she knew she was the same kind as the man she's talking to right at this second.

If only that would be the only secret she has.

Maybe she wouldn't be judged for her genetics, but surely she would for the way she's gotten to this point in her life. Shameful is the most appropriate word that comes into her mind.

The small wave of Brittany's hand and the kind smile that breaks naturally across her face after make her thoughts evaporate until all she can feel is the pounding of her heart in her throat.

She can almost taste her own nervousness, when she licks her dry lips.

Averting her eyes, she's stunned that she doesn't need her vision to know Brittany's edging closer. She can sense her presence, like she's the Sun with its warm rays licking at her skin until it tingles, itching to be touched.

Her toes appear on the cold marble tiles, proving that it wasn't just a false assumption on her part that she left the man alone and crossed the lobby with casual gracefulness to stand in front of her.

Slowly raising her head and appraisingly trailing her eyes over the statuesque form of Brittany's body, a knot forms in the pit of her stomach when she arrives at her face and catches a smile ghosting around her lips.

A smile all too familiar to her, as she's witnessed it tugging at the corner of her mouth many times yesterday.

"You're late." Brittany chuckles, breaking her out of the stupor she's entered.

"I'm never late." Her automatic answer comes out harshly, her indignation undisguised in her voice.

Brittany's eyebrows rise slightly in surprise, but she doesn't comment and Santana thinks it might be worse, since the weird silence is the one thing that she wants to avoid the most this morning.

"Sorry, I was just a little surprised to find them here."

She points her chin towards the in-valids, still polishing the marble tiles around them and washing the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

"I didn't mean to offend you." Brittany shrugs apologetically.

"It's all right." She shakes her head. "So…I made a little plan for today. I think it would be the best to start-"

"Do you always plan everything?" Brittany tilts her head to the side curiously, completely unmindful that she's just cut her off.

Her question catches her off guard, mostly because the answer is obvious but she still hesitates to express it.

"Is that a problem?" She narrows her eyes accusingly, her usual tactic of turning the matter against the other person winning easily over her true self, who is afraid of what Brittany might think if she answers one way or another.

Somehow she craves to measure up to her expectations, proving that she is worthy of her attention and maybe her liking too.

"No, I was just wondering if maybe falling asleep in my bed was a part of your plan…" Brittany trails off, her eyes widening like she's trying to hypnotize her to be honest.

Her stare feels almost investigating, intimidating her and pushing the lame excuses out of her mind with overpowering force.

"It wasn't." She uncovers the truth, surrendering to Brittany with startlingly little effort.

Her answer doesn't seem to discourage Brittany and her stiff muscles loosen considerably when what she gets in return is a playful grin. Her face looks even younger, her pale skin lighting up with rosy colors and her eyes brightening with joy Santana's sincerity seems to bring her.

"So why did you do it?" She asks hastily, enthusiastic to pry into the matter more. It seems she's afraid her walls will come up soon again, so she is quick with her question.

Sure enough, Santana is seriously contemplating brushing off the question and answer it with one of her practiced sentences, offhandedly, to make it obvious the topic has no effect on her at all.

But she seems to be under a mighty influence, forcing her to utter the words coming to her mind, true and trivial ones.

"I was tired." She explains curtly, because the meaning behind them is obvious enough for Brittany to decipher.

The bashful smile and the mischievous glint in her eyes prove she doesn't feel even a crumb of guilt for working her over so much that after the little jolts of pleasure faded away the exhaustion won over her slumped body that night.

"So about my plan…" She picks up her line of thought from before, while motioning towards the gates to express her intention to start their tour at last. "We will check out the gym and the lab on this floor at first, if that's okay with you?"

"Awesome." Brittany claps her hands with childish cheerfulness, before she slips her finger into the security device and it allows her in with a flashing green light.

She doesn't waste a single thought to the process, but why the hell she would, Santana asks herself with bitterness and a sharp pang of jealousy even.

Quickly recovering from her distress, she copies Brittany's moves with farfetched nonchalance while convincing herself that the woman is the last one whose fate she's envious of. There is countless more undeserving of such gift, the gift of being born with a genetic quotient unmatched by other, less lucky people's in the world.

Stepping beside her near the elevator block, but keeping a respectful distance, she tries her hardest to concentrate on her plan.

"The gym is on the right hand side-" She motions towards it. "-and the laboratory is on the left. You will easily find them, but there are several maps on each floor to help you out."

"Maps confuse me a little bit." Brittany utters quietly with a timid shrug.

Her little confession makes her eyebrows shoot up, but she rather lets the comment go and decides to start the tour for real. Brittany follows her willingly, the clicks of their stiletto heels echoing from the walls, cutting through the pressurizing silence surrounding them.

They arrive in front of familiar white double doors in short time, thanks to her fast pace, wordlessly matched by Brittany.

"The official name is workout center, but we call it gym and for some losers, it's the chamber of hell." She smirks smugly, before opening the right door for Brittany.

She shoots an amused look at her confidence, before stepping in.

"For astronauts, there are mandatory workout hours through the week, depending on our physical state and our position." She explains while walking through a spacious hallway. "There are endurance tests once in a while too."

"And they examine you?" Brittany stops in her tracks.

"We are constantly monitored while working out here, our pulse and heart rate, even if it's just a casual run at the end of the day. But endurance tests are naturally more straining and there are several strict criteria you have to meet, so yes, we are being examined."

"When I come here, will I be monitored too?"

"No, but you have to take some tests too, though much less frequently than us. They are intent to make sure everybody is healthy and fit around here. But I guess for someone like you, even an endurance test would cause no fuss."

"Someone like me?" Brittany asks with a frown, taken aback by her choice of words.

Panic is pushing the air out of her lungs and it's hard to correct herself when she feels being choked. She's just implied that Brittany somehow might be different than her and her bold words seem to bring the woman's curiosity to life.

"I mean, someone like us. A valid." She keeps her voice in control by pure force while making her mistake right, hoping that Brittany won't follow up on it more.

"No, you just assumed I would be able to easily pass the same tests like you." She says quietly, visibly upset by something still hidden from Santana. "You shouldn't be so sure about that."

Santana turns more to her, now in broad confusion, until they stand face to face in the middle of the deserted hallway.

"I had an accident in senior year of high school, I broke both of my ankles while dancing. I'm not the same ever since." Brittany shares a painful memory of her past with only the crease between her eyebrows indicating it might still hurt her to remember.

"I'm sorry." Santana says uncomfortably, a little out of her depth. She didn't expect Brittany to share such a personal detail of her life and isn't sure how to proceed.

When being upset, people like emphatic words and reassuring hugs, she's learned that from Quinn. But physical contact sure wouldn't do her any good when it comes to Brittany.

"You don't have to be. I learned to accept that accidents happen and I was a bit unlucky." Brittany shrugs and she can't believe she takes the matter so lightly.

The horrific accident happened years ago, but it must have screwed up her whole life, shattering her dreams, not just the bones in her ankles. She has no idea how that would feel, if she was meant to walk through the right path in her life, the one with a successful career and dreams coming true and the worst happened in a flash.

She would die in sorrow.

Brittany is the embodied proof that genetics don't guarantee everything goes right along the way, but still, she looks content with how her life turned out. Or maybe it's just a façade, she muses, maybe she is just hiding away the self-pity, the despair and anger she would personally feel if such a tragedy happened to her.

Maybe she is not the only one pretending here.

"You can simply ask, you know." Brittany smiles perceptively, like her stare can cut through her scalp and see the wheels in her head turning.

"How about we take a look inside?" Santana asks, forcing away the much compelling questions popping up in her head.

She is keen to know more about her life, how her recovery went and what she is capable of physically after such a life-altering accident. And she is desperate to know what kind of dreams she's had that were taken away from her by the evil force called life. But she can't ask.

Brittany nods, understanding that she is not ready to go on talking about deeply personal matters.

"So, women's locker room on the right side, men's on the left. You can take your starting package later at the supply department and it contains your gym uniform too." She explains monotonously, while walking towards the entrance of the workout area.

Peering inside, they can see a few dedicated employees running on the sleek, artistically designed treadmill machines formulating a strict line in front of the usual glass windows. It looks like they are running towards the gardens, but they never reach their goals, even when a layer of sweat formulates on their foreheads from the effort.

"I always hated running on treadmills. It feels pointless." Brittany declares absently.

"Yeah." Santana replies simply, because there is some truth to her words. But she's gotten used to how life works around here, so any kind of pointless activity doesn't faze her anymore.

Life is pointless in general, since it has an end that's no different for valids and in-valids. It's inevitable, forming a dark cloud over them through their whole lives.

They are all dying once.

/

The usual apprehension takes over her while edging closer to the laboratory.

With each step, the muscles in her body twitch with the profound repulsion she feels towards the man leading the department.

She's never hated someone else in her life.

Brittany could never know the reason.

The true story of how she's finally earned a place in the high-valued training program, starting her career at the company. It was their final test, a simple urine test for every candidate to make sure they didn't lie about their identity. For her, it was an entirely different kind of test, one about how far she would go to achieve her dream.

It turned into a still extant agreement with the despised man, one that ruined her dignity. A huge part of her bitterness and guardedness can be blamed on it, but she can't help but accept the cruel fact that it was the only possible way for her.

It still is.

"I've already been here." Brittany's voice busts the bubble her depressing thoughts formed around her.

"Of course, I forgot." She shakes her head, trying to redeem her composition. "We can go up-"

She is abruptly cut off by the sound of the thick white door opening and she can only hope that the person whose eyes she feels boring into her back is not the man she hates with every damn cell in her body.

"Miss Perez" The fulsome voice is one she would distinguish from a thousand others any time. "What brought you here so early this wonderful morning?"

Detachment is the only solution when it comes to interacting with him.

Entering one of her comforting dreams about drifting in the black sky while her deep emotions seemingly vanish into thin air, only to blubber up later in the familiar darkness of her room, that's how she survives each occasion she has to bear the burdensome presence of the man.

"Dr. Schuester" She gives him a timid nod after turning around, every muscle in her body stiff as she holds her chin high, averse to crumble under his probing stare.

"I see you have company." The white-clothed doctor trails his eyes without shame over Brittany's body. "Who is this pretty lady here honoring us with her presence?"

"She is the new assistant of the director." She answers, her voice monotonic and ice-cold, cutting through the tension-filled air like a knife.

"William Schuester, a pleasure to meet you." He reaches towards her hand while an arrogant sneer plays around his lips.

"Brittany Pierce." Brittany introduces herself in an unfamiliarly curt manner while extending her own hand.

To increase her disgust, the man has the nerves to bring her hand to his lips and lay a kiss on her silky skin without deserving as much as the possibility to lay his eyes at such a beauty.

He is tainting her purity.

She flinches at the sight uncomfortably and to her immense relief, Brittany finally cuts off the odd scene by discretely pulling back her hand.

"Excuse us doctor, we have to go now." The determination in her voice leaves no room for argument, but she knows she couldn't really ever win an argument over the powerful man in front of her.

It's their shared interest to maintain their agreement, so she hopes he won't ever break the rules.

Of course it doesn't mean he cannot shadow his superiority out.

"Of course. I will see you around Miss Pierce" He bows in a theatrical manner, the sly smirk still intact on his lips.

Brittany offers a little wave of her hand, before turning away and Santana follows her a second later, her heart sunk by the encounter with the loathed doctor.

She can still be grateful for higher powers though, that the observant woman beside her didn't catch the suggesting wink Schuester shot her before returning to his laboratory.

That would have been the true catastrophe.

/

Once in the rather large elevator, Santana feels small under Brittany's inspecting gaze.

She must have sensed the chilling tension between her and Dr. Schuester and for whatever reason, she acted in a quite similar distant way with him like she did.

"You don't like him, do you?" Brittany asks quietly, but it's more of a statement than a proper question.

She should have known she would figure it out even from witnessing such a brief interaction.

Offering only a reserved nod, she returns to counting the seconds until the elevator rings and the door opens, allowing them to enter the first floor.

"I don't think I like him either." Brittany continues, even though she didn't indicate she wanted to talk at length about the man. "He is creepy."

Brittany manages to find the most befitting word and her pronouncing of the instant antipathy she felt towards the man causes her to block her way by stepping in front of her. A frown ruins Brittany's striking features and she wants to smooth it away with her thumb, but she can only dissolve her confusion by carefully chosen words.

It doesn't help that she can make out every petite freckle on Brittany's nose from this proximity and her widened ocean-like eyes consume every coherent thought that might enter her mind.

Brittany is favoring undiminished attention to her, when she starts speaking in a low voice at last.

"I want this to stay between us, but he is not a good man." She explains slowly, emphasizing each word like she wants them to imprint on Brittany's mind, never to be forgotten. "Please try to stay away from him"

Two more words are on the tip of her tongue – _for me_ – but she swallows them, before they can enter the heavy air.

"Okay" Brittany whispers, causing her to drop her gaze to her rosy lips and she just realizes she can smell her fresh, minty breath.

Her irresistible presence is dancing around her, like she's standing in a circle of fire and Brittany is the flames licking at her skin, but not burning, only teasing with warmth. She craves more of her, to match the burning she feels inside, boiling her ever so cold blood.

It rushes to her head, dizzying her and then the warmth gathers at a much more inappropriate spot, before the stinging ache rouses her from this dangerously vulnerable state.

She is the most uncontrollable, when she is turned on.

"Okay" She repeats after Brittany, her voice scratchy, hurting her ears as the reason for her intense reaction is painfully obvious.

The sound of hastening steps nearby provides the last forceful shove towards returning to her professionally organized demeanor and stepping away from Brittany to regain the safe distance between them.

She clears her throat, easing the rough dryness before she attempts to speak.

"Um, let's take a look around here" She narrows her eyes in concentration, when she is finally able to act as a decent leader on this introduction trip. "We're gonna visit the IT department first"

After the obligatory circles around the IT and the supply department, and lengthy explanations about why they could be useful for Brittany, they walk to the computer facility of the second class navigators.

It looks much less prestigious than the room of their department.

The height is less impressive, the chairs less comfortable, the view the windows offer less striking just to make sure the navigators working here know there's more to be enjoyed if they are working hard, and maybe in the future earning a position at the first class department in result.

"I can give you a short summary about how the development system works" She offers while Brittany is taking a look around the room through the see-through walls. "If you're interested..." She adds cautiously, afraid to bore the woman beside her to death.

"Very much so." Brittany snaps her observing gaze to her face and offers an encouraging smile.

"So, there's two ways to earn a place in the training program." She explains, remembering back to the time that seems so blurry and far away now, when she was struggling to find her way to earn that place she's been longing for since her childhood. "Quinn and Noah, like the majority of our colleagues took the two-year preparation course of the USC academy. And there're those like me and Sam, as you certainly know already, who entered the program coming from the outside world."

Brittany gives a nod and it doesn't come as a surprise for her that she knew that much.

"We had to take more straining tests and meet higher principles than those coming from the academy. And then came the standard substance test, but of course that didn't cause much trouble to anyone." She chuckles with feigned confidence, hoping Brittany won't detect the raging bitterness behind the covering layer of her voice. "So the training program took six months and we each had a mentor guiding us through the process."

"Who was yours?" Brittany asks with sincere curiosity, offering a bit of relief that she doesn't seem to be bothering her with minor details.

"Rachel Berry." She rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Oh, I heard about her." Brittany's eyes light up with realization before a cute frown creeps up on her forehead. "Though it's totally weird picturing you with her."

"You bet…" Santana chuckles in amusement. "But she is the best astronaut I've ever known and she sure likes to remind people of that fact. She is horrendously annoying, but other than that, she was the best mentor I could have ever wished for."

"What about the others?" Brittany asks, referring to their mutual friends.

"Noah's was Finn Hudson, the fiancée of Rachel. I'd rather not comment on him further." Her voice conveys her disdain in a plain way. "Quinn's was Artie Abrams, officially the biggest smart-ass of USC. And Sam's was-"

"Kurt Hummel." Brittany finishes her sentence quietly. "I know about…them." She finds the most appropriate word she can possibly use.

In this case, the word doesn't simply mean the unity of a mentor and a trainee, but refers to a much more complicated and profound relationship, a romantic one between them.

Brittany's painful, narrow smile conveys her sincerest empathy towards the two men, whose secret relationship ended dramatically and left severe wounds on both sides.

"Right." She nods awkwardly, before trying to sneak back to safe territory. "So…those who didn't drop out and finished the training program successfully became second class navigators and we started working right in this room." She turns towards the smoky glass walls again, offering them a look inside.

"It seems a lovely place to work." Brittany comments on it, apparently still astonished by the exceptional circumstances surrounding them at the complex of the company.

"Just wait until we take a look around the next floor." Santana replies smugly, visibly proud of her current position and the privilege of working on the second floor. "The four of us got promoted to the first class department in less than a year, a record time in the company's history."

"Impressive." Brittany declares woozily, pretending to be completely blasé about the issue.

"It is." Santana glares at her overdramatically, like she's deeply hurt she is not handling their historic achievement in a serious manner.

Brittany giggles at her surely hilarious expression.

"I'm just teasing you" She playfully smacks her arm and Santana can't prevent a smile tugging at her lips to break across her face.

"Oh yeah, you seem to be really enjoying that" She chuckles, completely flustered and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly, when Brittany's hand lingers a second longer than necessary.

Brittany cuts off their physical contact and retreats her hand while shooting her a bashful smile.

It makes her strangely pleased that the attraction she feels growing between them by the second is not one-sided.

For her sake, there's no doubt it should be though.

/

With increased enthusiasm, she shows Brittany around the unimportant parts of the second floor first, before they arrive to the doors of her current workplace.

The sight of the room never fails to take her breath away.

They are staring into the space for seconds, Brittany observing every fascinating detail and she purely drowning in adoration.

"What's inside that room?" Brittany cuts off the comfortable silence and points her index finger towards the circular room under the command console.

The long finger grasps her attention for a second, as she remembers the remarkable skills Brittany is gifted to have in bed and how amazing that finger felt deep inside her, pleasuring her not so long ago.

"Everybody craves to get access into that one room." Santana explains, after shutting her eyes to have a peaceful split of second, emptying her wildly twisting mind. "Mission meetings are held in there."

"Yours starts soon." Brittany casts her gaze on her again.

"June 21, to be exact." She adds quietly and Brittany easily deciphers there is a hidden reason behind her reserved tone. "But in the current circumstances, nothing is settled."

"What do you mean?" Brittany asks carefully, like she's holding back not to sound pressuring about what is obviously a sore spot for Santana.

"I assume Sam mentioned there is a mission going on right now, essential to be successful for our one to even have a chance to start." Santana explains. "It's a mission to Triton, the biggest moon of Neptune."

"He did mention it. I know Kurt's involved." Brittany shrugs a little, waiting patiently for her to continue and extend her knowledge.

"He is, alongside Berry, Hudson, Abrams and Anderson, who are all familiar to you now and two other first class navigators. They took off last June and they are supposed to return in March, but…" She bites down on her bottom lip, while sharing the details of the tragic mission. "We can't be sure if they ever return."

"There is always hope." Brittany tells her reassuringly and somehow she believes it this once, thinking such an open-hearted person can't be lying in her face.

"Yeah, there is." She smiles painfully and stunned to earn a comforting stroke on her arm by Brittany. She is quick to retreat now, leaving an ache under the invisible print of her hand on her blazer. "But the worst is that we have no idea what is going on with them. The connection just freaking cut off." She shakes her head angrily that such an advanced technique used on spacecraft can fail them so miserably.

"Just remember that for them it must be a lot scarier." Brittany reminds her with a kind of wisdom rare to be owned by such a young person. "You just have to stay strong for them"

And right at this moment, she knows Brittany is a person who could willingly give her the strength needed to survive the worst tragedy even.

If she would ever let her, which - however stinging pain it shoots into the bottom of her heart - is impossible.

/

The remaining minutes of their tour are spent by taking a walk on the last floor, the one where Brittany is starting work today and during, Santana is surprised to receive an incoming call by Quinn.

She excuses herself for a second, because she knows she will instantly inquire about if she's behaved nicely towards Brittany. Of course she is right, and she is quick to hush the unnecessarily worried best friend of hers and they agree to meet a few minutes later.

"Sorry about that."

"It's all right." Brittany shrugs, not bothering for the few seconds she had to spend alone.

There is a thought twirling in her mind all morning, something might make Brittany happy. Though the worst is to spend time alone with her right now, she can't help but offer her idea.

"Um, so I wanted to ask you something." She starts with the now increasingly familiar nervousness blubbering in her throat.

"Go ahead." Brittany encourages her with a kind smile.

"There are several mission launches through each week, but only a few are held near by the complex. I can show you one Sunday morning from my secret spot, if you're up for it." She shrugs nonchalantly, preparing herself for a negative answer.

"You have a secret spot?" Brittany asks with eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yeah, is that weird?" She laughs, smoothing the non-existing creases on her skirt in embarrassment.

"It's cute…and the answer is yes."

She snaps her gaze at Brittany and it seems like she's seeing her in a new light.

A better one, she can only hope.

/

Brittany instantly finds a way to fit in.

Her recipe is not about acting similarly cool towards her co-workers, but more about sincere kindness expressed towards them that works like a charm. At the end of the week, even the staff in the restaurant is wrapped around her finger.

She gladly shares her first experiences with the waiter taking their orders, earning peculiar looks by some around them in the restaurant.

And the oddest thing is that she doesn't seem to care the slightest bit for what others might think of her strange manners. She surely adds a kind of freshness with her attitude to the strict uniformity of the company. Santana even caught the director take a second look at her, when they walked through the lobby this morning together, with Brittany wearing a flowery blouse with a beige skirt.

As the five of them are having lunch right now, she can't help but stop for a second to admire her.

Through the past days, she was so full of work, she barely managed to see her for a few short minutes. Her free time, if it can be even called like that, was mainly occupied by resting and taking care of Quinn, who was close to being depressed. She still is, but she is a master of hiding behind thick walls in public.

She might be even more talented than her.

Brittany quickly caught on that something is wrong with her and Noah, but respected their privacy.

But amazing as she is, she made sure to avert their thoughts towards much more pleasant issues when they spent time together, like she is right now, telling some silly joke for their amusement.

Her effort doesn't seem to be strained at all, the attention and genuine kindness coming natural from the inside.

She seems to be a better person than any of them, and she is afraid her belief will be proven right as time goes by.

/

Before she leaves home, she tiptoes on the hallway to Quinn's bedroom to check on her.

The door is not locked, and much to her relief, she finds her peacefully sleeping. Trailing her eyes over her slumped body under the covers, she notices her hand is in an awkward position. She takes a step closer and catches the worn picture of her newborn baby in her fist.

It breaks her heart.

/

Brittany is already waiting for her near the gates, just like the beginning of the week. She's holding two cups of coffee in her hands and lifts them high proudly when she catches her entering the building.

Even though she has no idea how she deserved the small gift, she willingly takes it from Brittany.

A kiss to her cheek is how she would return the kindness, but she simply says thank you instead.

/

After they step into the elevator, she can't decide which one of them seems more enthusiastic about the experience they're about to share. Brittany seems to be bouncing from the energy and she can feel adrenaline flowing in her veins already.

"Where are you taking me exactly?" Brittany asks curiously, when the wait seems to be unbearable anymore for her.

"We are going up to the roof." She pushes the right button guiding the elevator to the roof. "It's a privilege the director herself decides who can enjoy."

"But how-"

Brittany's question is abruptly cut off when a metal window opens up on the control panel of the elevator, revealing a mini security device. Santana slips her middle finger into it and the familiar sound echoes in the small cabinet a second later, verifying her identity.

They start off towards the sky, while Brittany shoots her an amused look.

/

It feels like they are walking towards the end of the world, as the black sky sparkling with stars and the ocean, with its dancing lights on the calm waves are merging on the horizon.

Only the swaying golden glints in Brittany's eyes offer a more exquisite sight.

Santana leads her between the glass fragments of the roof, a conveniently wide concrete path allowing them to wander on top of the building. She catches Brittany frowning in confusion, when they are close to the edge, but she seems to trust her as she doesn't comment on the issue.

When she turns towards her a few feet away from the edge, Brittany patiently waits for the enlightenment.

"I'm really happy you choose to wear sneakers this morning." She chuckles before taking the remaining steps on the path and motioning for Brittany to join her.

"This feels like an action film." Brittany wonders, when she gets sight of the small balcony under them and the steel ladder offering the way downwards.

This wing of the building is not used at all, in fact it's completely isolated inside the complex from the other wings, waiting to be renovated through the summer months. There is no other way leading to the secret balcony other than the worn ladder, which is why Santana told Brittany to wear casual clothes for their early get-together.

"I'll go first." Brittany declares with eagerness, and before Santana can protest, she climbs down on the ladder and jumps from the last step to land gracefully on the balcony.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shoots her a smug wink, causing Santana's heart to jump into her throat.

"Are you coming?" She adds to the tease with a playful smirk.

She rolls her eyes in return and turns her back to Brittany to step on the ladder. Her sweating hands don't really help her move with smoothness typical for her in normal circumstances. She slips from the last step clumsily and a second of shrill panic later, she lands in Brittany's steading arms.

Instinctively, she grabs the material of her hoodie into her fists and she almost faints when she looks up to find her closer than ever since she left her bed that night.

It would only take a little pull on her shoulders and their bodies would merge together.

But kissing her would be the stupidest mistake she could ever make.

"Thanks" She clears her throat and loosens her grip on Brittany.

Brittany's hesitation frightens her.

Panicked that the woman searching for clues in her eyes might be braver than her, she quickly drops her hands and clutches at the sides of her loose jeans.

A flash of disappointment can be exposed in Brittany's bright eyes, but she quickly recovers and lifts her hands off of her waist, respectful of her choice to not give in to the temptation they are both struggling now to fight.

"Anytime." She whispers gently, before stepping away from her to take a look around. "I see you like having company here."

She motions to the two foldaway chairs occupying much of the space on the balcony.

"Um, actually I've never invited someone here before."

"Then why-?" Brittany frowns, casting her gaze from the two chairs to Santana's face.

"That one is for you. I brought it up yesterday." She confesses reluctantly, while pointing to the one on the right side.

"Thank you." Brittany smiles warmly, before taking a seat.

She regrets leaving almost no space between the two chairs, but quickly sits down before Brittany can notice her sudden discontent with her close proximity.

Luckily, the launch is just minutes away, so she might be able to survive the situation without exploding from the pressure in the pit of her stomach. She grabs the arms of her chair and scratches her nails on the wood to calm her nerves.

Brittany doesn't save her this time from the weight of the uncomfortable silence settling on her shoulders.

It seems to her that the muteness on her part is the revenge for Santana's rejection, but she quickly averts these paranoid thoughts.

Brittany is not that kind of a person.

She dares catching a glance at her and finds her peacefully waiting for the experience to start. She must have already forgotten how close they were to kissing, she convinces herself while counting the freckles on her nose. She stops around twenty and glances at her watch impatiently.

"Look!" Brittany almost yells, before jumping up from her chair to grab the edge of the balcony and lean out as much as she can.

Santana joins her and focuses on the launch site in the distance. The space shuttle system is fully set up and she can make out a little crowd nearby, waiting for the historic moment.

And there is it, the white smoke leaking from the nozzles of the rocket engine, signaling they are close to witnessing something special together.

"Oh my God" Brittany whispers barely audibly, while grabbing her hand unconsciously when the engines are ignited.

Shades of orange color are playing around the bottom, sending a shiver down Santana's spine as she can almost feel the heat radiating off the rocket from miles away.

"Oh my God" Brittany whispers weakly again, clutching at her hand so much she has to snap her eyes away from the stunning sight in front of her.

She misses the liftoff, but the sheer awe on Brittany's face is worth it.

A single tear escapes her wide eye, but her devoted attention doesn't waver for a second. Only her cracking voice conveys what kind of effect the experience is having on her.

Santana can only hear the horribly loud sound effects of the launch, but she doesn't care at the least for what is happening.

The emotions pouring out of Brittany are much more worthy of her appreciation. Her joy is so beautifully sincere she's only ever witnessed on innocent children before.

When she turns to her slowly, she can just see there is a pang shimmering in her teary blue eyes.

She frowns, hurting to see her upset and asking a silent question, but she gets a crushing hug instead of an explanation with words.

"Thank you" Brittany sniffs, her hot breath hitting her ear. She clutches her back with one hand and grabs her neck with the other, pulling her even closer.

She lets her weep quietly into the crook of her neck.

The launch completely forgotten, they are silently standing at what feels like the edge of the world.

She has no idea what caused Brittany to have such a profound experience, but right now all she can do is offer her some peace after the overwhelming rush of emotions. She doesn't have to figure it out on her own, she knows Brittany will offer the only true answer if she's ready.

When Brittany releases her tight hold on her body, taking her hands away, Santana looks up into the sky to see the rocket far up, barely noticeable for less than expert eyes.

The line of smoke dissolved already in the sky, the moment of history long ago passing by.

But her skin is still steadily burning from Brittany's touch.

* * *

_**Um, please review if you have time!**_

_**And visit me on my tumblr or livejournal, both of them called: emmanuelle-s**_

_**Thanks for reading!  
**_


	5. Part 4

**Dear readers!**

**I'm back, with full force, writing this story. Expect biweekly updates, sometimes a bit less, sometimes a bit more.  
**

**I wanna thank those who survived this hiatus and still care for this story. I promise to make it up to you, starting with this lengthy chapter.  
**

*** emmanuelle-s. tumblr. com *  
**

**Please review if the story makes you think or feel something!**

* * *

**Part IV**

Quinn must be up.

Yet again, she is not in bed at this early phase of the day, a reasonable hour to be sleeping for everyone.

Maybe she's just forgotten about the lights, sneaking into the kitchen to have a snack late at night or hopefully not, searching inside the cabinet for something containing a bit of alcohol. That's an alarming possibility, so as fast as she can, she hurries into the kitchen, hoping that she is not about to find a drunk and very much wrecked blonde on the floor, sleeping on the cold tiles like the dead.

She finds her there, in quite a different scenario.

Clothed in bright colors and busing herself with something that smells rather delicious, she looks completely fine. She is apparently as alive as one can possibly be at six in the morning, occupying herself in a productive way. Her mind sure needs to concentrate on anything other than her daughter and her birthday.

She's glad to see her trying, but less for the strong likelihood that she was kicked out of her warm bed after a few hours of rest, because the standard nightmares ruined her peace.

It happened every night for the last week.

"Morning" She mutters, before a yawn prevents her from asking a question about why she is up, making breakfast at a time, when people should be still full of last night's dinner or having naughty dreams about what to eat in the late morning.

"Oh hey" Quinn glances at her, giving a smile before turning her head back towards the pan. "I wasn't sure you'd be back so soon."

Her statement is seemingly innocent, but the hairs stand up on the back of her neck from her knowing tone.

"The launch was two hours ago. Where would I be?"

She sits down, dragging her body on the stool and throwing her elbows on the kitchen island. She almost fell asleep in her car, the coffee they drank earlier not really having a lasting effect on her, but now she feels on edge, waiting for Quinn to elaborate what she meant with her implications.

"I don't know, it's just…silly. Forget it!" Quinn chuckles awkwardly, waving with her right hand that's holding a wooden spoon.

She's the worst actress in the world, or maybe Santana knows her too well to believe the act so easily. They've been through this, and she is so tired of it. She is fed up with Quinn pushing her so much and acting like there is something going on between her and Brittany.

"Nothing happened, all right?"

She is not able to hide her annoyance in her voice. The words come out rushed and harsh, rather intimidating. To add to her confusion, they sound a bit practiced too, but maybe it's because she was replaying them over and over in her head, too many times through last week.

"I didn't say anything."

Quinn is quick to defend herself, but it just angers her further, the blatant lying.

"Oh my God, Quinn Fabray, I can just smell there is something going on in that pretty head of yours. You know, I could probably taste it in the eggs you're making."

She knows she's being unfair, lashing out on her so roughly, but she's just reached a breaking point and she is the only one here. And in the back of her mind, she knows Quinn is the only one who can handle her bad temper, when it gets the worst out of her.

"Don't act like it's come out of thin air. You are rather obvious with your feelings."

"What are you talking about? What feelings?" She snaps, almost barking the questions at Quinn.

"Feelings…like the kind you might have for another blonde with a pretty head."

Now she's either paranoid or it seems like Quinn is trying to intentionally get on her nerves. Maybe she is in complete masochist mood and craving to get an angry rant from her.

"Since when do I have feelings for every freakin' woman I decide to be generous and fuck?"

She stands up abruptly, not able to continue this conversation sitting, and walks closer to Quinn. Like she has just sensed this would happen or practiced the impeccable timing, Quinn turns around with a telltale expression on her face.

"So you just fucked her?" She asks, her voice dripping with irony, and shaking her head like she is too dumb to comprehend the complexity of these words. "Like all the other women? Is that how it happened?"

She sounds accusing now, and there is a hint of judgment in her voice she's not able to handle.

"You know what? I'm so done arguing about this."

She gives up, thinking she is better off stopping now before she might say something to Quinn she would regret later.

Throwing one last cold glare at her, she turns around and leaves the kitchen, now having another reason to be sorry that her best friend wasn't asleep when she arrived home.

"Whatever you say, Santana" Quinn yells after her when she's crossing the hall already.

She shuts her eyes for a second, but what's behind her eyelids doesn't really help to calm her down. In fact, it just makes her situation worse and reminds her why she feels so stressed out.

A pair of bright blue eyes blurred and glistened by tears, and the heart-aching sadness reflecting deep inside them.

/

Falling asleep is a hard challenge, as her brain seems unable to rest until it figured out how to handle what Brittany confessed. The words scream inside her, louder every time until it's hurting her ears. It makes her insides coil in a weird way, and she doesn't feel strong enough to find out why.

She shouldn't be so concerned, but that is something she can find an explanation to. She knows Brittany as a good person, so it's natural to feel sorry for her at a certain extent. It's completely reasonable to be emphatic. But all the other feelings, the guilt, the worthlessness and the irrational amount of fury seem out of her control and unfortunately, even her comprehension.

Sleep has no chance to come and soothe her restless mind until she shakes the layers she wears for protecting herself off and digs into the bottom of her soul to find out why. Not until she exposes herself for self-examination.

Staring at the ceiling has become a frequent pastime before sleep nowadays, but it's never felt so hopeless to reach the unconscious state that brings her the deeply desired relief.

It is the taste of defeat she feels inside her mouth and it's so bitter she wants to spit it out.

But she can't, she can't get rid of it until she understands why.

What a fucked up world, she thinks, while her face screws up painfully.

She buries her face into her pillow, trying to erase the haunting images of a crying Brittany from her mind, and focus on what her words meant and why they make her feel more than what she could ever be able to handle.

Once they shared a dream with Brittany.

They both wanted to be astronauts, wanted to find out the mysteries of those bright stars flaked all over the picture of the black sky. They dreamed about flying at an incredible speed upwards, until they reach space, still a place of unknown for most human beings. They wanted to get a bit closer, just a tiny bit closer to discover its secrets, and unfold them, one by one.

They just wanted to be up there, so bad.

A dream they once shared doesn't exist anymore.

For Brittany, it's not a dream anymore. For a woman who seems to think impossible doesn't exist, not until a person at least tries to defy it, has been depraved of her one chance to do so.

It was stolen from her, in a split of a second, it was simply gone.

She doesn't deserve to have this dream anymore, not if a person like Brittany can't share it. Honestly, she's never deserved to be here, it is not how it's supposed to be in this world. Brittany is a valid, she should be the one in her place, honored to be appointed to lead a mission in space. What she was able to achieve in her twisted ways, deceiving everybody and tricking her way up to the top of the ladder, Brittany should have reached effortlessly.

But fate had something to say.

Was it fate, she is not sure, all she knows is that she's never heard about something more unfair than her story.

It was that person, that person Brittany rejected to name who dropped her in that damned dance and caused her accident. The horrendous accident that ruined her chance, breaking both her ankles and making what once was perfect, flawed. Her body became a burden, the one thing that barred her from dreaming anymore and she has to live in this painful reminder until her soul leaves her body in death.

Brittany thinks it was just life.

She told her some are not as lucky as others and she is one of them.

She wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her to open her eyes up to what a huge blasphemy that is, but at the same time all she wanted to do was to hug her so tight she would squeeze the pain out of her for good.

In that moment, when she saw the reflection of the spaceship cutting through the sky in her tearful eyes, mingling with longing and then utter defeat, she felt she would go as far as the end of the world to plant a hint of hope back into them.

She can't accept it was just life.

It was that person, having the mercy of being unnamed, who should be blamed for this. It was that person who failed Brittany, who ruined her, who stole the dream she once dared to dream.

She wants to know who it was, go after them wherever they are and drag them before Brittany to have a rightful revenge.

All she wants is justice.

But maybe if life had been just, she would have never known Brittany, never known about her dream and the person who shattered it.

If life had been just, they could've never shared a dream.

/

She gets a call from Noah on Sunday, asking if she wants to join him hitting the gym after work tomorrow. She jumps at the opportunity, and they make a bit of small talk after, the call ending before she even makes a weak attempt to ask how he really is.

Of course she would rarely get a sincere answer.

The weight of the world is on his shoulders, the past, his dreams, his daughter, and Rachel. She can relate. If they once open up, all their monsters surge out of them and facing them so openly is the hardest thing they have to do.

So it's better to keep it all inside, tuck them away behind the façade.

It's easier to pretend.

/

She asks Quinn if she is up for the workout session, but she politely declines, claiming she has a lot to do. Truthfully, she probably just wants to avoid every possible occasion she has to be in the presence of Noah, a haunting ghost of her past, or more like, a very much living and breathing reminder of it.

Of course they already made up, shortly after she woke up the second time yesterday.

A cup of coffee was waiting on her table, with the perfect amount of whipped cream on top and a note from Quinn, saying she went out for a walk.

By the time she came home, their argument was all forgotten, an irrelevant moment of their past.

/

The sun sets Sunday evening, the soft light dancing around in their kitchen graciously, and she wonders how this weekend flew by so fast.

After they eat dinner, without much of talking, Santana offers to do the dishes.

It's a tiny favor compared to the one she is about to ask of Quinn.

When finished, she walks into her bedroom and dives into her night stand, searching for what looks like a modern day accessory.

It's sleek, black and shiny, but it serves an important purpose. A heart monitor device, one every USC astronaut has to attach on their chests while working out in the gym. Every palpitation of their hearts is being displayed on the monitor of their doctors, while they are completing their mandatory hours, or simply enjoying a nice run in their free time.

It has to be on every minute, only to be detached when they are finished.

Obviously, she is not meant to keep one at home.

She finds it in the back of the drawer, and takes a deep breath before exiting the bedroom to look for Quinn. It makes her feel ashamed every time she has to ask her for this favor. It's understandable, because her inability to have a stable heartbeat for an hour-long run is humiliating for a supposedly flawlessly fit mission leader of USC. Of course she is as fit and healthy as an in-valid could possibly be.

But hers is still far from how a healthy heart of a valid person is working through the process of a long, straining run.

She is breathless, on the verge of fainting after every occasion.

It takes an incredible amount of self-control to pretend she is all right, until she turns the water on in the showers and starts coughing, swallowing as much oxygen as she can while the sound of the water dripping hides her embarrassment.

It's tough to be reminded of her physical incapability.

She is lucky there is someone who helps her out every time.

"Quinn, would you please-"

"How long?" She is quickly cut off by Quinn, who grabs the device from her hand and attaches it to her chest without a blink of an eye. She is already in appropriate clothes for running.

"Sixty minutes" She answers, casting her gaze on the floor in shame. "Thanks"

It comes out low, barely audibly, but she knows Quinn can hear it. And she can probably feel it how much she means is.

"It's fine Santana." She shrugs, before stepping on the treadmill and starting it.

Despite what Quinn says, she knows there is nothing fine about this.

/

The four of them meet at the same place and the same time Monday morning.

Brittany is missing. Within a weak she managed to integrate into their little gang so smoothly that it just doesn't feel right anymore to have a morning get together without her.

Santana holds back from asking about her, since there are more straining issues on hand. They are preparing for an important meeting this week, where their progress in mapping out the flight plan for the mission is going to be reviewed, analyzed and dissected if needed. It's essential for her to deliver excellent material to stay in her position and be worthy of the respect coming with it.

She has to prove herself yet again.

It excites her, so much that she can't wait to see the eyes of the board members when she presents her somewhat revolutionary approach towards Neptune. But there is a part of her dreading the possibility of them not approving of her unconventional idea.

Then there is Quinn and Noah, who are trying desperately to keep their distance, but doing it subtly not to hurt the other. They are tied closely by their past, and though they've caused some rough moments for the other, they have respect for each other. And somewhere under the layers of dark memories from the past, blame and regret glued inseparably to them, there is love too.

Sometimes she thinks it would be easier for them to survive this time of the year together, not as apart as they could be from each other.

But she is not one to give advices, when not asked.

And then there is Brittany.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she's been constantly there since they first met. If her brain is an ocean, then Brittany is the lone dolphin living in it, swimming under the water and sometimes coming up to the surface to insinuate herself into her conscious thoughts. Even if she is hiding under, she is there. She is always there in some ways. Now it's more obvious, she feels her presence in her mind strongly and she needs to baffle her back into its unconscious to be able to function properly.

She needs to know what happened to her. It's weird, unreasonable and probably wrong how much she wants to dig into her past. But it's bugging her so much, how Brittany seems to have moved on.

For her, it would have been impossible to do so.

She wants to know how.

That's why she whispers into Sam's ear they should talk before they part ways inside the navigator room.

He is the only one who could give her answers.

/

Brittany is still nowhere to be seen at lunch.

They meet up at the restaurant, the mood considerably higher compared to the morning. It seems work did all of them good. Even Quinn's eyes seem clear of those depressing dark clouds mingling into the bright hazel.

Sam offers an answer to her inward question, the most recent one, and tells them Brittany has an urgent meeting with the director to prepare for the sooner than expected arrival of the board. The hairs rise up on the back of her neck, but Sam quickly assures her that the presentation is still set on the same date.

Soon they are finished and taking the last steps in the lobby.

Santana decides it's time.

Though she fears Sam can't offer the answers she needs, or maybe, offer something that would do no good to her, she can't avoid facing the truth anymore.

"Sam" She whispers, nudging him while slowing down her tempo.

He stops, giving her a confused look before realization falls down on him that they agreed earlier to have a chat.

Quinn and Noah both glance back towards them, curious but respectful of their need for privacy, before continuing their way back to their workplace, their steps in sync but their minds completely shutting the other out.

The silence is cold, suffocating between them, and Santana is guilty to leave them, but she has to be selfish this once.

"Look, Sam…I" The words stuck into her, every one of them as inappropriate as the other. "This might be not right what I'm doing, but I need to know something."

Sam is tilting his head to the side curiously.

"Well, just ask and I tell you if it's right or wrong, before answering anyway."

He jokes, and suddenly she feels selfish about this long-planned confrontation. She is sure about to ruin his cheerful mood.

"Brittany told me about her accident." She states simply.

The soft smile falls from Sam's lips, his expression darkening until he looks troubled and for a yet unknown reason, outright frightened.

"She did?" He asks back, with what might be hope in his voice that she didn't actually tell him what she just did.

She is confused why he acts so strange, his look desperate like he wants to avoid exploring this issue at all costs. Maybe it's just that he feels pressured already to talk about something that Brittany might not approve of. After all, it's her past, her life and they are talking about it behind her back. Sam is that kind of person who feels bad for doing this, especially to a friend.

But she can't stop, not now when she is so close to the revelation her fingers twitch from the need to be able to touch it.

"Yeah, Saturday at the launch…she was crying and I didn't understand why. So she told me." She shares with him, remembering the intense moments, how affected Brittany was and eventually, how she broke down in her arms. "She told me about her dream and how some bastard-"

She is about to have an outburst about how this world is such a fucked up place that something like that could happen to her, when Sam tries to cut her off, muttering her name lowly, the real one nobody here knows of.

"Santana"

"Just ruined it, you know. I just can't believe she is not angry or-"

"Santana, please" He sounds desperate now, and his face looks pale, suddenly a broken person seems to stand in front of her. Though she is tiny compared to him, he is the one looking up to her. He looks fragile like a porcelain doll that is about to break into pieces, ducking his head and staring into her eyes like he is begging for forgiveness.

"What is it?" She whispers breathlessly, suddenly her chest tightening.

She is numb, but her senses remain sharp, capturing every flicker of Sam's miserable eyes, every short ragged breath he takes and anxiously waiting for the words that are on the tip of his tongue.

It's the dread, the utter dread of hearing these words loud that she knows will come out of Sam's mouth.

"It was me"

/

Right now, he is the only one who can offer the comfort she needs.

He is strong and determined to hold up, to put on a brave face through anything.

He has survived a lot. His parents never really cared, never showing him affection, encouraging him and supporting him. They've never taken the chance to get to know him. This is what happens to parents who don't treasure the opportunity they have to know their child. As time goes by, they are soon to be rejected, disdained, not taken worthy of trust or love anymore.

The child grows up, lonely, abandoned and full of scars on the surface of their hearts.

They act out, trying to prove the world they don't care for feelings, they don't even have any. But every time they do something scandalous, it's just a loud cry for help. Because all they want is someone to notice them, to care for them.

To love them.

No matter how wounded they are.

And Noah is full of open, bleeding, unhealed wounds.

Sometimes he is hiding them, pretending they are not there, or at least not for others to see. Other times, he is sprinkling salt onto them, intentionally she suspects, to hurt himself even more. And the rarest of times, he is able to acknowledge they exist, and offers a chance to his friends to see him in that vulnerable state.

She expects a similar rare occurrence later this evening, when they are having a drink, surrounded by the comforting smoky air and dim lights of _Eris_. The swaying jazz music that blends into every word they say, slowing the rushed and smoothing the harsh ones, until they are safe to be consumed. She hopes talking will help them both.

Until that, the presence of him offers the only safety she can hold onto right now.

Over the sound of her own ragged breaths, she can hear his stable, controlled ones and it helps lulling her mind until she can concentrate on the liberating feeling of moving. How her elbows swing beside her body, supporting the movement of her legs, how her feet touch the surface of the treadmill for a split of a second before taking off again, how her whole body rises and falls with every step she takes towards the sunset.

They are running, their steps completely in sync, their heartbeats, not really.

She can't hold up for much longer, their sixty minutes coming to an end soon, and her strength and control fading away more and more with every movement she makes.

Noah knows.

They share a meaningful glance before she shuts her eyes, blocking out the view of the Sun meeting their landscaped garden, burning the green with its redness. She is mustering up all her strength and determination to lay into the last minute of running.

She is making a tremendous effort.

Her lungs are burning, every cell in her body wishing her to stop but there are still a few seconds she has to survive. Her pride doesn't let her give up sooner. The sharp, neon shades of orange behind her eyelids play tricks with her mind as she is on the verge of fainting from the exhaustion. Her insides are craving to be outside, her stomach twisting and churning, making her regret every nibble of food she swallowed today.

She opens her eyes the second before it's over.

A second is just enough to rip off the device from her chest, before it reveals her secret, beeping loudly to alert everyone around them there is something wrong. With that invalid heart of hers.

Noah inquires if she's all right with that special, delicate tilt of his head, and she nods, subtly before hopping off of the treadmill and marching through the gym in her usual cold, nonchalant demeanor.

Her self-control is at an extreme level and she is not able to keep it up for much longer, so she is quickly undressing before grabbing her towel to stroll into the deserted part of the shower.

When the first drops of water hits the cold tiles under her feet, she lets herself go, grabbing her stomach while she coughs, constrained, her whole body shaking violently in the stall behind the curtain that shades her from prying eyes.

It's humiliating.

Her muscles are convulsing under her palm, even the ones she didn't know existed as exhaustion wash over her body, in huge, shattering waves like a tsunami.

She spits out the bitter-tasting saliva, when her breathing calms a little and turns the water even warmer. When it's so hot she gets surrounded by steam, blurring her vision and the sharpness of her other senses, she lets herself be for a moment.

Just be.

No thinking, no feeling, no moving, just be.

When the sensation of hot water dripping on her shoulders turns into painful, she turns it off and lays her head against the cold, misty tiles on the wall. It clears her head, and the contrast of hot and cold around her is easing her tired, exerted muscles.

Turning the water on again, this time at a tenderly stroking, mellow temperature, she picks up the soap. She washes every inch of skin she finds, her moves slow and deliberate, softly touching herself without giving much thought.

She is functioning on instinct.

When she is washing her abdomen, her hands wander lower, yet uncovered territory and her touches turn even gentler, almost exploring when she is past her hips, stroking her pelvis.

Her breath hitches when she realizes what she is about to do.

She can't, not here, though all she wants to do is touch herself, to release some stress and give herself just one peaceful second when all she feels is pleasure. She desperately needs an orgasm, so much that the raw need is close to convincing her to forget about her surroundings and help herself out, just one damn time. The last week full of teasing, tentative touches and longing looks, all from Brittany, she knows she wouldn't need much. Just a few minutes of furious, expert rubbing and she would be breathless for an entire different reason than before. But why is that not enough, she demands the answer from herself, suddenly all the pent-up frustration and anger exploding like a timed bomb.

"Fuck" She punches the tiles with her fists, exploding from the pressure inside. "What is wrong with me?"

It's a barely audible question, meant for no one in particular, but a tough admission is clear behind her words.

There is something wrong.

Something that is so not her, she wants to cut herself open and dig inside with her bare hands to rip it off. The person she knows herself to be doesn't do this, this pathetic, hopeless craving for something that she is not meant to have.

Why is she suddenly so desperate to have more than a blissful orgasm, she ponders, wanting to feel more than her own fingers working between her wet folds. She wants to feel her skin, every inch her hands are able to reach and more, feeling it all over her body as they are moving together, so close she can't even distinct their breathing or determine where her tongue ends and hers begin in their attached mouths, kissing feverishly like they are infected with desire.

She wants her body, so fucking much.

This yearning got under her skin, desire flaming inside and burning her cells, boiling her blood and locking her whole body into this prison cell she can't escape, though she tries her hardest.

She really tries, forgetting it all and moving on, not acting on her desires out of consideration and respect, and because she is sure it's for the best.

But as a person, she is limited.

Sometimes, like this exact moment, she is not sure how longer she can be right to her promise and not make a bold move she might very well regret later. But if that came after a night spent with Brittany, wouldn't it be worth it, she contemplates, her brain divided with opposing perspectives.

It would just be what their night was merely a week ago; sex between two people, amazing, out of this world sex. But still, just sex, without any attachments whatsoever.

She wishes it would just be that easy, to have it one more time and then simply forget it. There is a part of her who would be brave enough and dare to try, though there is fear of failing.

And fear is the strongest, most influential feeling she's ever experienced.

That's why she musters up all her remaining strength, physical and emotional, to turn the water off and return to the real world, facing her monsters.

Wrapping her towel securely around her body, she pulls the curtain to the side and slides out of the stall, only to find a deserted steamy shower around her. It seems like she is the only one here, and she feels immense relief discovering it. Her shoulders slump a little, as she lets herself act more natural surrounded by nothing but the safety of being alone, and walks out to the changing room. Sitting on a bench, she towels her hair until it's still damp, but not dripping before she gets up and drops the one wrapped around her body. She dries her skin, enjoying the soft, fluffy towel stroking it until she is dry, feeling immaculately clean everywhere.

She picks up her black, lacy panties from her locker and pulls it up on her legs, smoothing the waistband on her hips when the door opens, startling her.

"Oh" Brittany utters, staring at her motionlessly, completely stunned.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She snaps harshly, while shielding her naked breasts from Brittany's eyes, crossing her arms in a protective way. Exposed against her will, she feels completely out of control right now.

"You told me this is the women's locker room." Brittany tells her matter-of-factly and she has the urge to roll her eyes.

Of course, this is the locker room every freakin' female employee of USC use at a daily level, but it's Brittany who had to burst in here when she is topless after a shower. A hot, steamy shower where she spent minutes of fantasizing about her and almost acted on her desire, touching herself while naughty images of her played in her mind.

"Yeah, sorry. You just scared the hell out of me." She shrugs, hating how her voice comes out lower than normal and turns back to stare into her locker, trying to figure out what she is supposed to do now.

"I'm sorry."

Brittany doesn't sound apologetic at all.

Her stilettos are clacking on the tiles, while she is gracefully striding closer to her and she appears just beside a few seconds later, still not taking her eyes off of her. Contemplating what to do for a second, she loosens her hands around her torso and then in one smooth, bold move she drops them beside her body.

Maybe it's just her imagination tricking her mind, but she swears she's just heard Brittany inhaling sharply.

"It's okay. I just thought I'm alone."

She mumbles, not trusting her voice to be stable if she utters the words louder.

It comes out completely wrong as she sounds too disappointed, and for a split second she feels guilty for making Brittany feel like her presence is burdensome for her. She takes a deep breath and about to apologize, tilting her head towards her but the blue eyes she wanted to find staring into hers are trailing all over her body, hungrily taking in every naked inch of skin they find.

Her lips parted, the tip of her tongue sneaks out between them and licks the bottom one unconsciously.

"Shit, Brittany, would you stop leering?" She outright demands, exasperated.

Her harsh words seem to tackle Brittany and she immediately casts her gaze on her face.

She has no idea why that look feels just as invading.

"There is nothing I haven't seen already, Anita" She states simply, pulling her eyebrows up like she's saying what's done is done. "But if you want me to, I can turn away until you finish."

It's annoying how nonchalant she is being about seeing her naked, like it's not a big deal since they already slept together. Yes, that's true, but it doesn't mean they shouldn't have any personal boundaries, just a bit of privacy every normal person needs, apparently everyone apart from Brittany Pierce.

She is so angry, but still, the look she's giving her makes her knees want to buckle and fall into her arms, let her take her the way she wants to.

"Please" She chokes out, before composing herself and raising her chin high proudly.

She avoids Brittany's eyes for the last seconds before she turns away. She is showing her back to her now and crossing her arms, strictly and giving the impression of being rather hurt.

Trying to concentrate on the task of dressing up, she dives into the locker and picks up the lacy bra that matches her panties. She rolls her eyes at herself, when she is not able to clasp it properly the first time and has to try again. She is being completely ridiculous.

It's pathetic how nervous Brittany makes her feel.

But she can't scold herself for being so immature right now, because she has to hurry up and escape this awkward scene as fast as she can.

She picks up her skirt and quickly pulls it up on her legs, trying not to make a lot of fussing sounds and giving Brittany the pleasure of knowing which item she's taking on.

"I wasn't gonna force myself upon you, you know." Brittany says all of a sudden, cutting through the heavy silence. "I can keep my hands to myself."

Her voice is low, her tone darker than usual, displaying only a faint resemblance with the cheerful tone she's familiar with.

"I know. But this is just weird." She explains, and tries to convince herself that she is being reasonable all the while.

Quickly, she pulls up her shirt and starts buttoning it up.

"I think it's not. I think it's beautiful. You are beautiful, and that's why I stare."

Her words are so simple, yet so sincere and baring such a heavy meaning that she can't handle right now.

She can't accept it. She can't even devote a single thought to it.

"Well, what if I don't want you to?" She challenges her, stubbornly.

All it gains is a chuckle from Brittany, annoying her further.

"I think you want me to. Actually, I think you had trouble clasping you bra, 'cause your hands were shaking a bit and you-"

"Just stop, okay?" She peals, the words bursting out of her with irrational force. "Stop teasing me! I'm so not in the mood."

The air freezes around them, and neither seems to take a breath for seconds, her harsh words stunning not just Brittany, but herself too.

She instantly regrets lashing out, but maybe it's for the better. Maybe it opens Brittany's eyes to what kind of person she is. Sometimes she can be really ill-tempered and she just gave an example of it now.

"Okay"

Brittany answers a few seconds later, her voice sounding monotone and unusually controlled.

Disappointed and ashamed of her rude behavior, she hurriedly buttons up her shirt and throws everything into her locker, before pulling on her blazer and smoothing the creases. It's mostly a practiced, compulsive movement to calm down, but she fails at it miserably this time.

"I'm done. You can turn-"

"I guess you should go then." She flinches as Brittany cuts her off crisply, leaving no room for argument.

She's never heard her being so cold and unforgiving. But this is the first time she might truly deserve it.

"Yeah, I guess I should."

She whispers, before turning on her heels and hurrying to exit the room, her head ducked low in guilt and embarrassment.

/

They are not surprised to find Quinn already sitting at the bar in _Eris_, engaging in a conversation with Michael, smiling as the man is gesturing animatedly with his hands. At least she is not, but Noah has always been rather oblivious to the blossoming relationship between the two, or in fact, most of the happenings not involving him in the world.

After a quick greeting, they retreat into the dark corner of the room, choosing the most private table.

They are not hiding, just in a need for some privacy.

"So am I ever gonna know why I had to wait twenty minutes for you?"

Noah asks the second they are both seated and she would finally have a second to rest. But of course, that's kind of impossible when she can practically see the naughty images projecting in Noah's brain, coming up with plenty explanations as to why she took so much time in the locker room.

"I just needed a shower."

"A shower? Really?" He barks loudly, making every head turn towards them in the bar.

She really wants to punch him right now, and maybe that would be the best way to release some stress, she muses before hitting his bicep hard.

"Why is your brain so depraved Puckerman? I didn't do anything. It was not me." She snaps, enunciating the last words slowly that even he would be able to properly comprehend.

"Shhh, dude, calm down. What happened?" He leans much closer, resting his elbows on the table, and looking like a true confidant all of a sudden.

When he is acting serious, staring into her eyes so openly, she can finally see the soft and loving person behind the façade and has the urge to hug him tight. But he wouldn't appreciate it that much, she muses, at least not when strangers are around.

She lowers her voice, but her words are crystal clear when she speaks.

"Okay, first, don't you dare to imagine what I'm about to tell you right now. Promise me you won't!"

"You are really freakin' me out here, woman. Okay, okay, I promise" Noah hurries to agree, before he is to be smacked the second time.

"So I was in the locker room, alone and in the middle of dressing up, then who someone comes bursting into the room?" She asks dramatically, pointing her eyes in a meaningful manner. "Brittany"

Her delivery screamed of drama, but Noah doesn't seem to catch on. Not that she is used to much more.

"And? What's the big deal?" He asks confusedly, gesturing with his palms.

"Are you a retard? I'm standing there topless and she comes out of nowhere, staring at my tits with those wide blue eyes. How can someone's eyes be so fucking bright anyway?" She rants, not really sure who she is talking to, Noah or her own sanity.

Her rhetoric question hangs in the air for seconds, before Noah bursts into harsh laughter, leaning back in his chair and clutching his stomach.

When all she does is glare at him coldly, his laughter dies down and he just shakes his head, smirking.

"I'm sorry but you should hear yourself."

"What?" She snaps, annoyed that he seems to know something she doesn't.

"You're so easy, damn."

"Puckerman, don't play with me!" She demands, whining like a child because she hates to be in the dark, especially if there is something not occurring to her about herself. And Noah right now is giving the impression that he just discovered something about her that should be obvious to everybody.

All of a sudden, he is back, leaning close over the table and whispering to her.

"You want her, just accept it." He reasons, unfolding the secret and giving a simple advice at once. "And from what I'm hearing, she wants you too."

That is one of the reasons why she likes him so much.

His has a great understanding of complicated issues and sensing how to turn them simple, so dealing with them would be easy. It's the complete opposition of how her mind works, overanalyzing everything and coming up for plenty of scenarios and solutions to every issue, until all she has is confusion.

This time though, his approach is impossible to apply.

"I just can't Noah, I can't…" She whispers, defeated and without a hint of hope in her voice.

Noah touches her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly until she casts her gaze back upon his face.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He is nodding up and down until she loosens up a little. "Remember what you told me about that night? It was amazing, right? What's so wrong about repeating it if you both want it to happen?"

He lets go of her and shrugs his shoulders a little, like this is the only solution to her problem. He acts so confident about it, so determined that he is actually starting to convince her, but there are still a great deal of arguments at her hand.

"She is forbidden territory now." She mutters, her thoughts shifting towards Sam until she drags them back with force, unable to deal with the devastating emotions when her mind goes there. She knows the time is coming when she has to work it out how to forget what he told her and move on, but she is not ready for that, not yet.

"And since when do you care for stupid rules when it comes to women? Look, just be clear that it's only about sex and then no one gets hurt." Noah tells her, detailing his advice.

"Do you really think it should be that simple?"

"It should be, believe me." He nods, before his serious expression fades, and they both break into wide smiles.

"Where did you buy this wisdom exactly?" Santana asks sassily, earning a glare from Noah. "Okay, sorry. Thanks Noah, I will think about it."

"Well, anything for you. At least the woman you want is on the same fucking planet you are."

He mutters, bitterness creeping into his voice all of a sudden. Guilt rises in her, since he is the troubled one, yet they've only talked about her problems so far.

"I'm sorry." She says, for more than one reason. "How are you holding up?"

His expression is hurt and she can see right into his broken heart, until the intensity of their eye-contact is too much to stand for both of them.

"Sometimes it's too much. The only girls I've ever loved…they are gone."

His daughter, Beth, she knows is gone for good. He is never going to get her back and she would be cruel to promise otherwise. An empty promise wouldn't have a point and she would betray him with a lie.

But the other girl, the only woman she's ever loved, she is not.

Rachel is not gone.

"There is always hope, you know that."

She tries to give him encouragement, pleading him with her eyes to believe in her words.

"Is there? I'm not sure anymore." He whispers, his brows furrowed in deep thought, like he is searching for a source of strength, but blind to find it.

It breaks her heart that he is so lost.

"She is coming back." She whispers, her voice clear of any doubt and bearing with cogency. "She might be coming back with him, but she is gonna be here and you are going to have a chance. I know she will come to her senses once. She deserves better than Finn."

She explains, hopeful that her words turn out to be true, not only for Noah, but for the sake of Rachel too. They might not have had some rocky moments in the past, but she wishes her the best.

And she knows Noah would give her what she deserves.

"Do you think I'm better?"

"Yeah, Noah, you are." She says, smiling and letting her hand wander on the table until she touches his strong, bony, masculine one, giving some strength through the warmth of her palm.

They share a moment, but when a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, she lets go of him and waits for the inevitable.

"Even if I did imagine you topless?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows animatedly.

And of course it comes, every time, crashing down on them and shattering even the memory of the moment they shared.

But this time, it makes her giggle until the muscles of her abdomen start aching. It's a pleasant feeling of pain, because it reminds her why she loves this man so much.

/

Through the next days she is trying to stick with safety, meaning that she is either with Quinn or Noah, but strictly not both of them at the same time.

It's hard to survive, when she has so many unresolved issues with her closed ones.

Quinn is not an exception. Though they've quickly made up after their argument last weekend, they are far from being completely honest with each other, both hiding their vulnerability and their true feelings somewhere in the dark corners of their rooms. Dealing with them only when the lights are off, in the comforting safety and solitude of the blackness. But some of them stay buried deep inside, even in their most fragile moments. At least on the surface, they are content and appear composed in the company of others.

With Sam and Brittany, there is not much room for pretending.

She is blatantly avoiding Sam, and he doesn't seem to have mustered up his courage yet to confront their issues.

Brittany is respectful of the distance she so rudely demanded of her, but it's painful to see how her once seductive looks turned into longing ones and her confident demeanor into almost tentative, unsure of the boundaries she is trying to set up between them.

There are plenty of times she is trying to figure it all out.

How the hell they turned out to be like this, unable to behave like a group of close friends, having the same amount of love and respect for every member.

Sometime she blames Brittany, blind to all the other circumstances coming into play. For her, it all started with her, her own emotional turmoil and her issues with Sam never would have started, if she was not here.

But maybe it's all her.

Maybe she is blowing everything out of proportions and she is the one dividing their group.

Of course Noah and Quinn are not able to function together this time of the year, but otherwise they get along decently, not having any serious differences that would strain their relationships with each other or other members of their group.

She's fucked up three times over a few days already and it's the solid proof that she is at fault of the seriously alarming state of their group.

She gathers her strength and decides that from tomorrow, she is going to do the right thing.

Choosing the path that feels right, not the easiest to walk along.

/

Thursday, the long dreaded day comes around.

Quinn is taking the rest of the week off.

She makes her swear she would call if she doesn't feel okay, before she leaves for work alone.

The remaining four meet up at the usual place, having the decency to forget about their troubles for the sake of comforting a depressed Noah. It's a hopeless attempt, but the try otherwise. Brittany is the only one who succeeds at coaxing a faint smile out of him and she thanks after he is gone, accompanied by a still alarmed Sam.

Brittany acknowledges her words with a nod, denying her the soothing tone of her gentle voice before she leaves her.

Standing there in the lobby, left behind, she wonders how it's possible that she these friends, yet she's never felt so alone.

/

She can't bear it anymore.

One way or another, she needs to escape. In the middle of the day, the urge escalates in her to run to the end of the Earth and forget about every problem that exists in this world.

The low mood is dragging her down, dangerously so and she fears she is just one, tiny step far from following the others and sinking into depression.

She is afraid no one would catch her.

She would be like a once shining star, a bright spot on the picture of the black sky until the weight of the world starts dragging her down, making her falling fast towards the emptiness and there would be no one to stop her, no one to catch her.

/

The garden is as immaculate as it's ever been, the grass freshly watered and crunching under her feet as she is leisurely wandering towards her favorite place, a deserted arbor with fountain in the middle, bedight with a damaged sculpture forming Aphrodite. She shares an attribute with the sculpture, they both appear immaculate at first sight, but when one takes a closer look they are both damaged. Harmed by others, wounded, hurt.

All of them are, in a way.

She is not alone.

When she passes the last set of billowy trees and turns right at the corner leading to the secreted place, the tall shrubs no longer shield her view and she prepares her eyes to take in the beauty.

Her breath hitches when a pair of blue eyes stares back at her. A kind of precious, fragile beauty is in front of her, tangibly close.

Brittany is here, staring right into her.

She is sitting on the bench, motionless and looks like she's just sensed her arrival. She is staring at her doe-eyed, until she catches herself and casts her gaze into the dripping water of the fountain, embarrassed to be caught.

She is a vision, the blonde strands of hair rising and falling back onto her shoulders every time a gentle breeze catches them, her shoes somewhere under the bench, forgotten as she sits with her knees brought up to her elbows. So broken, and troubled, yet she looks more graceful than any sculpture ever made by hands of humans.

When she is able to compose herself, she walks closer, tentative in every step she takes until she is standing by her side, feeling tinier than ever as she looks down at her.

"Can I sit down?"

The only answer she gets is a timid nod, Brittany still stubborn to take her eyes off of the fountain.

She is listening to the soothing sound of the water dripping, and a few birds chirping nearby, and she is trying to come up with the right words that are suddenly stuck into her dry throat.

A little caught off guard, she is taking her time to prepare. She is determined not to screw this up and hurt the woman beside her – whose attention she feels unworthy of - even more.

The seconds drag on and on, and she slowly tilts her head towards her, taking in her features, and wondering if the light rosy shade on her cheek is the consequence of the chilly air or something with more meaning behind it. She seems to be just as nervous now as she is, and it shatters the last obstacle inside her, letting her thoughts flow freely.

"I'm sorry, Brittany." She chokes out, the weight rolling off of her shoulders at last with every syllable. "I'm so sorry that I was rude to you."

Brittany doesn't even flinch, she is staring in front of herself with glassy eyes, and yet to give a fathomable reaction. The wait is torturous and she forgets breathing completely, so on edge and yearning for a hint that she just did the right thing.

"I forgive you." She replies, her voice hard and despite the words, unforgiving. "But I'm still mad you are making this about me."

She casts her gaze onto her face at last, and she feels the guilt amplifying again in front of her penetrating eyes.

"What do you mean?" She asks, unsure if she really wants to know the meaning of her words.

In her eyes, she can see how her secrets are starting to unfold and she feels weakling, lost without the layer she is about to rip off of her.

"There is something between us Anita." Brittany utters, her voice still resolute, but delicate at once. "I can feel it. But you are trying to make it seem like I'm the only one."

Her expression is hurt, matching her words and there is wistfulness reflecting on her face.

"Britt, please"

She shakes her head, unable to squeeze more words out of her dangerously tightening chest.

"Anita, I want you. I know you want me too." She is begging her.

There is a shrill force behind her eyes that is daring her to deny it, and she fails to defeat it.

"I can't give you what you want." She gives her the absolute truth instead. "You deserve honesty, gentleness and love…and I can't give you any of that."

"Why do you believe that?"

There are thousands of reasons, so many she wouldn't be able to count it for her life. Secrets Brittany is yet to find out, hopefully never to know about them.

The heaviest of them all is who she truly is and the person she's become to be able to sit with her right now.

"It's complicated."

She tells her vaguely, hoping Brittany gives up persuading her and lets her off the hook, for good.

A bitter laugh is not what she expects.

"It's so complicated that a person like me is unable to understand it, right?" Brittany shakes her head, indignant and offended beyond words. "I get it. I'm not worthy of your efforts."

Maybe it would be the easiest way to let her believe this, but she can't bear to be cruel to her.

"That's not true."

She tries to convince her, shifting closer on instinct until their knees are almost touching.

Brittany shuts her off by staring into her lap, suddenly all her confidence leaving her body.

"I don't know what to believe anymore." She whispers.

Her broken voice lights her insides on fire, and she gives up denying the irresistible pull she feels towards her.

"I want you too, Brittany. You have no idea how much you…you turn me on." She breathes out waveringly, remembering that moment in the shower earlier this week. "But please understand that I can't hurt you. I just can't"

"Would it hurt if you kissed me?" Brittany asks quietly, after laying her eyes on her again.

"I don't know. Maybe, and then I'd hate myself for it."

"I don't care"

"But I do"

"I don't need your protection, Anita." Brittany snaps, anger and frustration erupting from her. "All I need is you to kiss me, to touch me. I can't forget how it felt, no matter how much I'm trying. I've never felt like this before"

"Brittany, I can't. Please understand that I'm doing this for you. This is the right thing to do."

"Then why does it hurt so much?"

"I'm so sorry." She shakes her head, empty and feeling defeated more than ever.

Brittany gives her one last, longing look before turning away.

When she is about to think she's shut her off forever, her lips part way slightly and tenderly she whispers.

"Me, too"

/

Waking up is excruciating.

Luckily, this is the last day of the week. Her head is still pounding, though she's just made this liberating discovery.

Tossing and turning all night long, she was unable to catch more than a few minutes of sleep.

It's scary how exhausted she feels, weight pressuring the muscles of her shoulder and pulling her down.

She's never been this close to breaking down for years.

/

Sam is waiting for someone outside of the building, shielding his eyes from the morning sunlight.

He is suited in black, elegant and handsome as he furrows his brows seriously. She can't deny it, with his luscious lips, gorgeous eyes and lithe body, he is quite a catch. No wonder every girl drools after him at the company. It's safe, pretending that he cares for their affection.

It's charming how he tries to brush off the braver, more aggressive ones at corporate parties, claiming he is taken. Then at least they hate the non-existing woman who has him.

This is easier than admitting that he is lonely, losing the person he loved long ago.

He feels he is losing her too, he tells her after catching sight of her and mustering up his courage to have the talk that they both tried really hard to avoid for days. It is a brief exchange, rushed, nervous but full of intense emotions. They agree to continue privately, and part ways, both carrying their forms with more confidence than before.

/

It's not hard for Noah to convince them they all need to let off some steam.

There is a party at Nyx, like every other Saturday night and they all experienced how wild those turn out to be. Of course, for her every party poses a huge threat, but she is going to be surrounded by her friends and truthfully, she is not giving a damn right now.

She needs this, just one night when she can let go.

Excited for this enticing possibility, she dives into work with full force and manages to bring out her most productive form so far this week. She enjoys how her fingers seem to find the right keys on their own, the instructions flowing on her screen and surprising her with their accuracy. She is at her best, and it gives her some much needed reassurance that she is here for a reason.

At the end of the day, she starts to hope again.

/

She is reminded that her life still sucks when she steps into the bar Saturday night.

Sam is already there, sitting at a table and staring into his drink thoughtfully like the bubbles are offering him crumbs of wisdom he so desperately needs now.

She sits down, sinking into the chair slowly and they stare at each other, both frozen by the nerves and it's so awkward she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Sam, I"

"No, me first." He cuts her off, clenching his jaw before he forces the words out of him. "You have no idea how it felt. It was eating me alive, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I felt my life was over. She forgave me, of course…I never even had to really ask. But I still did, every day for almost a year." He shakes his head, defeated. "Do you know how it feels that still the first thing I feel is guilt when I look at her?"

Hearing these words out loud, she realizes how wrong she was. She behaved like a child, pushing him away and denying him a chance to explain, to let her know how it all happened.

"I'm sorry." She apologizes, and it comes from the bottom of her heart. "I shouldn't have blamed you. But I still…I just can't seem to understand."

There is the confusion remaining, over how, how the hell this could have happened.

"Life is not fair, you know that well, don't you?" Sam asks lowly, and they share a meaningful look, both remembering the obstacles she had to come over in her life.

The constant struggle is haunting her, never letting her live in peace for long.

But at least, she is not ruined for good.

"If it was, she would lead that damn mission now." She whispers, tortured to say this out loud.

"This is why it bothers you this much? Because you feel you should have been the one there? Please don't tell me you think you deserved that."

Sam looks at her like she's gone crazy, but she is holding the truth in her hands, she knows that.

"All I know is that…" She breathes out, slowly like a part of her soul is leaving her body. "She deserves this dream more than I do."

/

They are both a tipsy when arriving to the club.

Having a couple of drinks at the bar, they both loosened up considerably. The drive towards the club was full of harsh laughter, dorky jokes by her and embarrassing impersonations performed by Sam.

They are themselves again, completely in sync with each other. Even in their movement, as they close the doors of the cab the same time. It leads to wide smiles, but hers quickly die down.

Brittany and Noah are waiting for them near the queue, standing a bit too close for her liking. Noah is casually holding his hand on her waist, barely touching it, but it's still there without reason. This is how he treats every woman, claiming them unconsciously, with his forward attitude, intense stares and bold touches.

He is playing with the wrong woman right now.

But Brittany either doesn't catch on or doesn't seem to care, casually talking to him and once in a while, chuckling at the men who are whistling to her. Maybe Noah is just trying to protect her, keeping her at distance and scaring off anybody who might take the teasing further than wanted. That would be so not like him, but maybe he decided to behave like a good guy for the night.

Grabbing Sam's hand clumsily, she starts walking and dragging his body with her, a bit more forcibly than needed.

As they are closer by the second, she guesses maybe she was wrong to expect Noah to act respectfully.

Taking in Brittany's appearance, she has no idea how to behave herself.

She is wearing a golden dress, tight around her thighs and loose on the top, revealing her cleavage. She is sparkling, her eyes glistening from the lights and her blonde hair falling on her bare shoulders in waves, framing her gorgeous face. God, it's killing her how freaking gorgeous she looks.

And it's killing her how it's not her palm that is resting on the low of her back.

/

Alcohol offers a way out.

She's had a lot of it already, forcing down her throat two shots of tequila after they worked their way through the impressive queue and earned a way in. Only after a quick identity control, of course.

So far, she was able to detach herself from reality.

It's a pleasant feeling.

She is sitting on a leather stool beside the bar, sipping a cocktail sluggishly, and trying to stop wondering what is going on behind her back. The music is loud, the deep bass helping her blood pump in her veins and deliver the alcohol to every cell of her system. Everything is blurry, a huge chaos surrounds her and she feels like she is losing herself, until a warm hand grabs her wrist.

"Brit"

Her breath hitches when she manages to focus, because Brittany is standing so close her cleavage is just inches away from her nose. She is staring at her expectantly, her hair tussled and her make-up slightly smudged by the thin layer of sweat covering her face.

"Come, dance!" She yells over the hammering beats, before pulling on her wrist and helping her step down from the stool.

The drink and her thoughts forgotten at the bar, they are edging towards the middle of the huge room and her senses are starting to come alive. She almost dies when Brittany winks at her, before letting go of her hand in the middle of the dance floor. Sam pulls her into a hug and she realizes that the boys are there too, this is real, not some heartlessly amazing dream about her and Brittany.

When he lets go, her eyes shoot back to Brittany instantly.

She is dancing like she was meant to be, swaying her hips seductively and perfectly in sync with the fast beats, shutting her eyes as she lets herself move on instinct, with all the freedom in the world. She's never seen someone be so sexual outside of bed. This feels like foreplay, or even more as she rolls her body and her hands wander all over her form, stroking her toned thighs before her fingers tangle into her blonde hair.

She almost faints when she opens her consuming eyes.

She can't even concentrate on her own moves, she is so mesmerized by her. Her arms and legs are moving, she can feel it, but she doesn't care how it looks like, she doesn't care if she is doing it right or wrong.

She wouldn't care if the music cut off and they would be the only ones still dancing.

The music sneaks into her body, the beats clenching her muscles and then loosening them, again and again, and a strange feeling of warmth settles in the pit of her stomach.

They are dancing close, so much that she can see her eyes clearly from this distance and she swears she is daring her to act. She is so close, so fucking close to give in. But instead, she takes a step back and turns towards Sam, burying her head into the crook of his neck and exhale deeply. His hands find their way to her waist, supporting her and letting her take the time she needs to compose herself. She pulls away, and he nods subtly, but she doesn't get it.

"Whatever you do, it's okay" He whispers as low as he can, leaning into her.

It should be a huge relief, that he is giving his blessing but suddenly, it scares the shit out of her. Now she only has to win over herself, she thinks as she slowly turns back towards Brittany.

She is not prepared to see what she sees then.

Noah is breathing into her neck, rolling his hips into her from behind and securely holding his arms around her stomach. His fingers are inches away from her breast and it makes her stomach churn to imagine them covering the short distance and claiming what she craves so much, she feels like she would kill for it now.

She is starting to shake, her insides twisting and turning, and she desperately wants this feeling to stop.

Her eyes are clouded by it, something incomprehensible.

Something is happening to her and it's shattering her into pieces.

/

She storms into the toilet with the force of a tornado, almost ripping off the thick door with her hands.

Stepping into a stall, and locking it securely, she kneels on the cold floor and lays her head into her palms, leaning over the toilet. A choked sob erupts from her, and she starts shaking violently, like she is infected with the most dangerous fever existing in the world. She coughs into the toilet, breathing hard while she dry-heaves.

Nothing comes out.

She is desperate to get rid of this coercing feeling inside her, but she can't.

Pushing the back of her hand to her mouth, she cries desperately, shaking her head like she is trying to fight it. But she is not strong enough. She has to accept it.

Brittany is making her feel something.

What is happening inside her is not physical, it's not the alcohol that is making her want to spit out her insides and flush it down the toilet. It is not the alcohol that speeds her heart up so fast it wants to break free of her ribcage. It is not the alcohol that wanted to hit Noah when he touched her.

It is her, and her feelings.

She gives up, not fighting it anymore and admits to herself she is feeling something.

It's hard, because Brittany still can't ever know.

She doesn't know what it means that she is still hearing her voice in her head, when she is alone in a stall, pouring the contents of her heart out into a toilet.

Or maybe, this is reality hitting her yet again.

"Open the door" Someone yells from the outside, hitting the door. "I swear to God, if you don't-"

She realizes that it was not just in hear head, the voices, they were real and Brittany is desperate to break into the stall. She slowly wipes her hands, stands up and prepares to face her.

It's not something she can really prepare to do, so instead she just opens the door.

"What are you doing?"

Brittany marches into the stall, furious, her eyes shooting flames everywhere she looks.

"I felt sick" She tells her simply, her voice resolute.

It's not an answer for Brittany, who takes a step closer, towering over her intimidatingly.

"No, I'm asking what the hell are you doing?"

She knows exactly what she means, but she just can't.

"Brittany"

She shakes her head, unable to offer an answer. She can't know.

"You don't get to play with me. I'm done. This is it." Brittany tells her madly, hurt and confused. "I won't let you go until you tell me the truth."

She is blocking the door, shielding the only way out with her body and stares at her, daring her to fight her. She looks she wants to get an answer at all costs.

"I can't give you anything, I told you." She whispers, pathetically, casting her gaze on the floor.

She doesn't want to fight anymore. She wants go home and curl under a soft blanket, and cry until all there is, is emptiness. But Brittany doesn't give up, very slowly raising her hand and touching her jaw.

The feel of her fingertips stroking her skin sends a shiver down her spine, and she can't keep her eyes off of her anymore when she cups her cheeks into her hands.

"Tell me you don't want me" She whispers, pleading. "Look into my eyes and tell me you don't"

Tears are glistening in those eyes and she is sure hers are no different.

"I" She chokes out, her last effort failing miserably under the weight of her feelings.

"Tell me"

Brittany whispers, leaning in until their noses touch and resting her forehead against hers. All she can see is the pair of blue eyes, but everything is there, openly reflecting inside them. Everything she feels is there, she is giving it to her, honesty, gentleness and -

"I do"

Santana utters into her mouth, giving in before her lips close around hers and she comes alive, at last.


	6. Part 5

**Note:**

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* * *

**Part 5**

It must be the alcohol.

There is no way she would kiss her back when sober.

She could get away with it like this, their lips sliding hungrily, searching for more with every stroke deeper than before, because she has the best excuse in her hands. She lets herself melt into the kiss, and for a second, just feel how Brittany slowly licks her bottom lip and deepens their kiss until their tongues meet.

The moan she has to hold back is the wake-up call.

It's a tremendous effort not to utter that moan into her warm mouth, to grab her wrists firmly and detach one from her waist, the other from the back of her neck and drop them into the nothingness between them, trying to pretend they weren't touching her just a second ago.

"You kissed back" Brittany claims, her breath still ragged, with a kind of satisfaction that irks her awfully.

She takes a step away and forces herself to look at her face, trying not to crumble from the look she is giving her. That hint of hope in her eyes is the worst thing though and it just catalyzes the inevitable reaction.

"It doesn't matter."

Brittany frowns and reaches out to touch her arms, but she steps back again until her back hits the side of the stall.

"It does to me." Brittany argues, with determination behind her weak, wavering voice.

"No, Brittany, it shouldn't" She just shakes her head. "This should have never happened."

She moves her hand between them, referring to their kiss, but there is a part of her that means "this" as in everything that ever happened between them.

Because if they hadn't slept together in the first place, denying her now would be so much easier.

She wouldn't know what she would get if she gave in.

But she knows, and it makes everything fucking hard.

Just looking at her now and see how she processes her words, the hope vanishing, replaced by sadness and confusion in her eyes, is really fucking hard.

"Why?" She whispers.

She has every right to ask for an answer, but she wishes she didn't.

"I don't want to…" She would say "hurt you" but that she's already done, numerous times so she settles for the easiest words. "…complicate things."

A mirthless chuckle escapes Brittany and she shakes her head bitterly.

"You are the one who is making things complicated."

"I'm doing this for you, please believe me." She whispers, feeling tiny like a chastised child under her hard gaze.

She is coming up with all the wrong words, and she just seems to make Brittany more and more confused. Her blue eyes are brimmed with angry tears, and for a second she is afraid she might slap her, and hates herself for thinking it might happen.

Brittany would never hit her.

She deserves it though, to be hurt back, in every way.

And the stinging pain on her cheek would feel like nothing compared to witnessing how she is making this cheerful, lovely person turn out of herself, towering over her, fuming and intimidating. It makes her feel so bad she wants to disappear from the face of the Earth.

But she can't escape Brittany's words that are finally coming out, with all their bluntness, almost biting honesty.

"You think you're doing me a favor?" She asks harshly, eyes wide and fiery. "What, by pretending there is nothing between us one second than acting like you own me? Why can't you just accept that you feel something? I don't care what anyone says, you have to know that, I don't care what people would think about us. I just want you. I wish you could just stop fighting me." Her voice cracks, and a tear slides down her cheek onto her bottom lip. She shallows it and with a shuddering breath, forces out her last words. "Just stop fighting this thing between us, please."

She is pathetic.

And the most beautiful thing is that she doesn't care. She doesn't care at all that she is begging her in a fucking toilet stall, where anyone could hear them and tell everyone in the club how she is trying to convince her that wanting Brittany Pierce is not the worst thing in the world.

She doesn't care that her chin is trembling and she looks like a stubborn child as she desperately tries to wipe away her tears, completely ruining her make-up.

She doesn't care, she just stands there, holding her gaze and holding her breath, laying out all her cards for her to see.

It's pathetic and the best thing that anyone's ever done for her.

"I'm sorry" She whispers the only answer she can offer and still stay true to her feelings.

Second pass without any movement, any reaction from Brittany and it feels like she is waiting for something, an explanation or clarification, or anything that would stop her from hoping that she's heard wrong.

When she gasps out, into the heaviest silence, she knows she gave up. She gave up trying to convince her, waiting for her to change her mind and give in.

She asked her to give up the fight, but she is the one who does it at last.

It's for the better, she knows it, but it doesn't make it any easier to stay alive when Brittany leans in and kisses her temple.

"Goodbye" She whispers into her skin, her lips lingering for a second then she is gone.

The door wide open, she turns her head slowly and catches her reflection in the mirror.

She has no idea who that person is staring back at her anymore.

/

The glass of the window is a comfortingly cold against her warm forehead.

She can still recall the feeling of Brittany's mouth on her temple, her tears wetting her skin and her warm breath hitting her when her lips parted to lay a forceful kiss onto her. Everything was put behind it, every emotion, every promise of them having something together and she can still feel everything when she thinks about it.

She got lost when it was over.

All those promises were lost.

Now it's just her and the heartache, and the bottle of tequila she bought on her way out of the club.

It was horrendously expensive, but she didn't give a fuck.

She is resting her forehead against the window of the cab, watching the city lights illuminating in the darkness of the night and enjoying how the burn of alcohol in her chest dulls the pain, and all her senses. She tries to take another gulp from the bottle and misses it a slightly, so a few drops slide onto her chin then right into her cleavage.

She wipes it off clumsily, and makes a mistake by glancing into the rearview mirror.

It's the pity in the driver's eyes that is pushing her over the edge, her throat tightening as she feels something dangerous crawling up from the pit of her stomach.

"Stop the car" She mumbles, barely having the strength to formulate the right words while her hands start shaking so hard she drops the bottle on the floor.

The alcohol runs out and ruins the carpet, but she doesn't care, she just needs air.

She needs air. She needs to breathe and she can't.

"Miss, I can't stop now. We are driving on the-"

"Stop the fucking car if you don't want me to jump out and die you fucking idiot!" She yells, her breath hitching at the end as she is desperately clutching the handle of the car now, trying to get out.

Then it all happens too fast.

They stop, the force of breaking causing her to lost her vision for a second, then she is outside, cold air filling her lungs and she drops to her knees, clutching her stomach while everything comes out that couldn't before.

She is choking out the vomit while sobs cause her throat to tighten every once in a while and every muscle in her body aches by the strain, the pain and force of it all. Her knees bruised, her favorite dress ruined, she sits up when it's over and takes a shuddering breath.

It's just then that she realizes someone is still holding her hair.

/

She gives him all her money when they are finally parked in front of the building they are living in with Quinn.

The poor man deserves it.

He even helps her walking inside and calls the elevator, and she is not sure he is doing it just because he is grateful for the money. Sometimes it's hard to believe such genuinely decent people exist in this world, because she has a lot of bad experiences.

And she wouldn't call herself a decent person either.

The receptionist takes over and holds her up by her shoulders while they are going up in the elevator. He looked at her strangely, because she pushed five instead of four, but he seemed to settle for the obvious solution that she is so wrecked she doesn't even know where she lives. It doesn't really matter, since they own both the fourth and fifth floor, so he just helps her out when they arrive and he is gone.

She feels a little lost without the strong, guiding arms and she has to walk really carefully not to stumble in her heels.

Every clacking sound she makes shoots a jolt of stinging pain into her temple, and she has to bend over and support herself by the wall next to Quinn's door. She slowly exhales and inhales, but it doesn't make her feel any good. She doesn't see the comforting blackness behind her eyelids, there is a cavalcade of flashing images, both real and made-up and lights, too sharp and harsh for her liking now.

"Fuck" She mumbles, trying to stand up straight. "Fuck, fuck, fuck"

She knocks on the door, harder than intended and regrets waking up Quinn.

"Santana?" Quinn asks from the other side, and it doesn't really seem she is waking up just now.

She opens the door and gasps.

"What happened to you?"

She grabs her arms, and helps her rise until they are facing each other.

"I don't wanna talk about it" She mutters, and though Quinn looks really confused and worried, she seems to get it.

She always gets it.

"What do you need?"

"I don't know"

Quinn winces, and the look she is giving her is all too familiar. But she is not strong enough anymore to fight her pity.

"We should take a look at your knees." She says softly.

"I'm fine." She argues, and hates how her knees buckle and Quinn has to catch her from falling.

She has a strong hold on her, when they start walking towards the bathroom.

"I don't think so honey."

She sits down on the toilet lid Quinn brings down for her, and rests her head in her palms while Quinn is searching for the utensils to tend to her bruises. She tries to calm down, forcing every foul thought out of her mind and trying to relish that is home now, and she is not alone.

She doesn't know whether her imagination is tricking her mind when she hears the familiar ring of the elevator again.

Quinn stops fussing around and then she knows it isn't just that.

"I'm gonna see who that is. You stay here"

She just nods into her hands, unable to open her eyes and raise her head.

The bathroom feels colder now that she is alone, and she starts shivering and wishing Quinn would wrap a blanket around her.

But she doesn't know where Quinn is and why she doesn't come back. And she doesn't know who that is in the elevator.

Seconds pass by that feel like minutes, and even hours and she has no idea what is happening until something shatters on the floor and then someone is shouting.

"It was you Quinn Fabray" A harsh voice shouts and her eyes snap open, her heart thudding in her throat. "It was all you. You gave her up. You gave up my daughter, do you fucking get it? _My_ daughter. Mine."

Noah.

"Do you think it was easy for me?" Quinn laughs bitterly, and the ache in her voice squeezes her heart like a stone-hard fist. "She is my daughter too. It was the hardest fucking thing I've ever done in my life."

"But you don't love her like I do. You never wanted to really get her back. You didn't even help me."

Everything is breaking down and she can't do anything.

She is just sitting in the bathroom, trying to block out the sounds of her best friends ruining their relationship for good and she can't do anything.

She can't do anything and she feels like the worst fucking person in the world.

"I was afraid."

Quinn chokes out a sob and she tangles her fingers into her hair to pull, while she starts weeping. She is feeling their pain and she doesn't want to. She just doesn't want to feel anything anymore.

"You are always afraid, Quinn." Noah yells at the top of his lungs and she gasps as his words echo in the whole apartment. "You are a fucking coward."

She cries because Quinn Fabray is not the only one who is a fucking coward in this world.

She wants them to stop, all these things happening around her to stop so she can just be. All she wants is someone to wrap a blanket around her and hold her until she doesn't feel cold and empty anymore.

All she wants is to forget this night ever happened but it is still fucking happening.

And she has no idea if things are gonna get worse or better when the elevator opens again.

"Noah" Someone shouts out of breath, and she pushes the heels of her palms into her eyes, letting out a relieved breath when she recognizes the voice. "Noah, get away from her!"

Sam is here, and he is doing everything she can't be.

"I won't hurt her." Noah yells at him, and he sounds scarier than the possibility of him doing so. "I won't hurt you Quinn. But sometimes I want to, you know? I would never, but there is a part of me, you know? I loved you once I think, I really did, but now I just…" He trails off, and she almost doesn't catch his last words they are so quiet now. "…I just hate you sometimes"

She stops breathing completely, and it's funny how she wished everything would just stop around her earlier and now she wishes the complete opposite.

It doesn't happen, nothing happens and she can't bear to just sit here anymore.

She stumbles to the door and leans to the frame while taking in the scene that she was witnessing from the other side for minutes.

It's much worse than she thought.

"Get him out, Sam" She mumbles, pointing her chin towards Noah but her eyes never leave Quinn's face.

"I'm going" Noah grunts, throwing away Sam's hands and they walk to the elevator.

They leave quickly and it's just them again, her and Quinn.

The shattered pieces of a porcelain vase are covering the floor, but Quinn looks the most shattered thing in this room, and maybe the whole world.

"Santana?" She asks suddenly, and somehow it surprises her that she is still able to speak in this state.

Her voice sounds weird, unfamiliarly airy and high-pitched.

It makes her shiver even more.

"Yeah?"

She searches in her eyes for anything, a clue about what she feels or what she needs, anything really. But there is nothing in the glassy hazel eyes, they are shut down completely.

"Is it okay if I take a look at your knees in the morning?" Quinn asks, and her heart breaks. "I just really want to be alone now."

She gulps and forces herself to come up with something, because she can't let her go now. She can't let her be alone. She has to do something.

"Quinn"

She tries, and fails miserably. All she can do is walk closer to her and just be there if she wants to fall into her arms.

"Please" Quinn whispers softly, and all it takes is a nod from her, then she is gone.

The door locks with a click and in time the elevator rings, with Sam coming back into the room.

It's the utter relief that she is not alone that guides her into his arms the moment he stops in front of her.

"Sam" She tightens her grip on his shoulders and buries her face into his neck.

He is warm and she likes it.

"Hey, it's all right now. I'm here" He rubs her back and she starts loosening up, but there is still so much fear that she can't get rid of.

"Please tell me she won't do anything stupid" She whispers, the possibility of that happening preventing her from completely melting into their hug.

"She won't" Sam says and it's all it takes.

She breathes out, and just lets him hold her for seconds then she slowly breathes in. He smells sweet and she has no idea how she never noticed how good he actually smells.

"Come on, let's get you in bed" He kisses her temple, in the exact spot Brittany did before and she has to close her eyes for a second to pull herself together.

She wants to forget it, everything that happened tonight.

"Okay" She whispers and he gently guides her down the stairs, and into her bedroom.

He turns on the lamp on her nightstand and turns it upwards so the room is dimply lit, just like she loves it before sleeping. She has no idea how he knows that though.

She stares at him and he looks different like this, so mature and serious and treating her so amazingly.

When he kneels down on the carpet and takes off her heels, gently kneading her tired feet, she parts her lips and her heart starts beating at an erratic pace from the thought that just entered her mind.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly and it doesn't help her avert this weird thought.

When she doesn't answer, just continues to stare at him, he clears his throat and stands up.

Her eyes follow him, and she just knows it then.

She needs to forget and he is here.

He is perfect. He is warm and he smells good, and it's all she needs.

There is no turning back and she knows that she is capable of doing this. When she stands up and they are staring at each other, she decides she is capable of being this selfish, and she just doesn't care anymore. She is a bad person and she needs him to forget tonight.

"I'll give you some privacy, okay? Just call for me when you-"

"Shhh" She puts her finger on his mouth, and shakes her head.

Sam stares at her confused and is about to ask something, but her next move is so quick and shocking that he can just stand there and stare at her.

She is completely naked, her dress dropped on the floor, and he still just stares at her face.

Her chest is rising and falling with every flutter of her heart and it would make a lot of men and women in the world go crazy but he looks at her like he would rather die than touch her.

It would shatter her pride every other time but now she just buries her face into the crook of his neck and strokes him between his legs.

She doesn't care that he is not hard at all, she would make every fucking person in this world hard in time, she knows that. She just hopes he will let her. She just really hopes he will let her do the stupidest fucking thing in her life.

She imagines it's not his pale skin that she is biting and not his blonde hair that is tickling her nose and she imagines it's not his warmth that she can feel everywhere when she pushes her chest into him.

When strong hands grab her wrists though, she can't pretend anymore.

"Santana, don't" He whispers into her hair while forcing her fists to come up onto his chest in the tiny space between them. "This is not who we are"

Her breath hitches and she stops fighting his hold, her eyes snapping open at his words.

"Oh my God" She chokes out, when Sam looks back at her and she has no idea how…how the hell she could have done that to him, to them, to herself. "Oh my God"

She breaks down, sobbing into his chest, clutching his shirt desperately in her fists while his hands settle on her naked back.

He is holding her, while everything that she felt tonight is pouring out of her.

With his strong arms, he is just holding her.

He is here, and he is warm and he smells good, and it's all she needs tonight.

/

The first thing she feels when she wakes up is pain.

Her head is about to explode and it doesn't really help that she has no idea what is happening.

She feels hot and cold at the same time, she is shivering but her skin feels sweaty everywhere. Maybe she is having a fever, but she is definitely sick.

Her throat feels awfully dry and she needs water to ease it, so she reaches out towards the nightstand where she always keeps a bottle of water, but she finds nothing.

She can't keep her eyes closed anymore and with a groan, she slowly opens them and it's even worse than what she was prepared for. She slides upwards and blinks a couple of times, until her vision comes back completely and then all she can do is just staring into her lap.

Staring into her lap and trying to remember.

Trying to remember why she is naked under the comforter and why there is someone in her bed with her.

She pushes her palm to her mouth to muffle the first sob that escapes her mouth when images start flashing in her mind, crumbs of thoughts and memories, some of them maybe not even real. She can only hope that the last thing she remembers is not real, and it didn't turn out to be the stupidest thing she's done in her life.

She can only hope Sam didn't let her have sex with him.

She can only hope he is not sleeping in her bed with his naked chest hanging out from the blanket thrown on his body because they had sex and he didn't want to leave her alone after.

She hopes he didn't fuck her because she made him feel sorry for her.

She really fucking hopes and her crying turns into desperate as she starts shaking him to wake him up with one hand, the other holding the comforter to cover her naked breasts.

"What?" He grunts, opening his tired eyes and trying to focus on her. "San, what's wrong?"

He sits up hurriedly when he realizes she is shaking her head and trying to stifle her crying to be able to speak.

"Sam" She chokes out, digging her nails into his shoulder. "Just tell me we didn't, please"

She whines pathetically, almost begging him to just say it even if it's not true. She just needs him to tell her they didn't, but he just stares, confused and it scares the hell out of her.

Her face screws up and she rests her head on her bent knees, not caring how the comforter slides down her chest and all she wants to do is scream. She wants to explode, rip her own body into pieces so she wouldn't feel like this on the inside.

"We didn't what?" Sam asks quietly and her eyes snap open, her heart thudding in her chest even more than before.

She just shrugs, hoping it will be enough and realization dawns on Sam, at last.

"No, no, no" He shakes his head frantically, and there is a flash of guilt in his eyes for causing her to get the impression that they did.

"Fuck you, Sam Evans" She hits his shoulder with her fist before she crumbles again, breaking into pathetic little cries, this time from the overwhelming relief.

"I'm sorry"

Sam starts rubbing her back to soothe her and long minutes later her breathing evens out.

"No, I am sorry." She whispers, tilting her head to look at him. "I'm sorry for almost-"

"It's okay, for now." Sam says softly. "But we have to talk, you know that right? You owe me an explanation."

"I know" She whispers guiltily.

"Come here" He tells her with a gentle smile, and she almost hugs him when she realizes that her chest is still completely exposed.

Sam follows her gaze and his eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, and she has the urge to really laugh the first time in a long while. He blushes and quickly averts his eyes, and she chuckles watching his reaction. Even the top of his ears get rosy and her smile only dies down when she remembers Brittany blushes the same way as him.

She takes a deep breath and readjusts the comforter before hugging him close.

"Just don't tell Puckerman you saw me naked. He would say it's not fair."

"It would be funny though, to see him trying to convince you" Sam chuckles and she joins in, but their laugh is a little sad as they both remember vividly how their friend acted last night.

"Fuck you, Sam Evans" She breathes into his neck, without much strength, suddenly feeling very worn out and sleepy.

"I love you too, Santana"

Sam says softly and it's the last sound she hears before drifting into the peaceful darkness.

/

Nothing seems familiar, but she is not really surprised.

After all, they were kind of drunk, drunk with desire more than alcohol that's sure, and it completely shut her brain off, so doesn't remember the neighborhood at all.

It was dark too.

And that's another pretty relevant reason.

So the wide street, the palm-trees and the modernly designed houses on either side are all too unfamiliar.

It makes her a bit anxious that she remembers nothing of it. It feels like this an all new place, like she's never been here before. But she got her address from Sam, so she must live here. She must live here, on the house to her right, so close to the ocean when a breeze ballets through the open windows of her car she can smell the salt in the air. She just thought she would have something to hold onto, a crumb of memory that might remind her she was here once and that there is a reason for her to be here again.

She doesn't really know how she managed to convince herself to come here.

Now it feels like the stupidest thing and she has a strong urge to just drive away and pretend she never spent twenty minutes sitting in her car in front of her house.

But she didn't spend all those hours deliberating what to do and deciding this is the only solution just to chicken out. It was the hardest thing, to really look into herself and find the right thing, and now she can't allow herself to throw it away, this knowledge in her hands. This knowledge that if she can't face her true feelings, then she will continue to ruin every good thing in her life.

Because this thing inside her, it turns her into a person she is afraid of. She is afraid what she might do, how far she would go just to get it out of her system. She realized how dangerous it could be yesterday and she can't let herself act out like that ever again. She could have ruined a friendship over it, for good.

Now she is almost sure this is the only solution.

Just let herself feel it, truly feel this thing inside her and act on it, without holding herself back.

She is almost sure she will regret it later, but it would still be better than wondering about what if.

But now is not the time to think about the future.

The sun is setting, and she closes her eyes for a minute to enjoy how it warms her skin, before exhaling deeply. Her eyes snap open, and she glances into the rearview mirror.

A flawless face stares back at her, heavy make-up covering her skin and hiding away every doubt and fear she carries inside of her every day since that night happened. She wants to appear perfect for her. She needs her to look at her like she is perfect. She needs her not to find out about those doubts and fears she is still dragging with herself, unable to let go of them when she is around her. She is not sure she will be able to let go of them tonight, so she needs these thick layers on her, this façade of perfection.

Quinn didn't really believe her when she told her she was going out for a drive.

She didn't ask though, like usual.

She went back to usual. Noah called to apologize and she somehow managed to convince her to take the call. She has no idea what he said, but she recovered pretty nicely from the events of last night and she was grateful for that. She smirked when she told her this pathetic excuse while painting her nails red, and she rolled her eyes.

So it was just the usual.

The red nails are matching the red lipstick on her lips, and she is not sure whether she is the hottest chick in the world right now or the most ridiculous clown.

She is not even sure Brittany still wants her.

But there is just one way to know.

/

The bell rings and she is scared like shit.

She almost starts backing away, like she never pushed the button when someone appears behind the smoked glass door.

It's not just someone though.

It's someone who is making her heart pumping against her ribcage like a wide animal trying to escape its bondage.

It's someone who is wearing the oldest flannel shirt she's ever seen in her life with her messy hair tied loosely behind her head and still looks the most perfect fucking person in the world.

Brittany gasps out, when she sees her.

It takes a second or two, but her eyes turn from stunned into admiring, trying to take in every detail of her until the ocean in her blue eyes consumed her completely. She trails her gaze all over her body and she waits it out, until her eyes settle on her face. Just then it seems she remembers who she truly is and what happened between them the last time they met. It makes her cross her hands around her torso.

She is protecting herself.

And she has every right to be.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, shaking her head a bit, with genuine curiosity.

It feels like she gave up on her already, gave up on the possibility of this ever happening and acts like she really has no idea what she might be doing here.

So she just shows her.

When her lips grazes hers softly, she is so afraid she will pull away she doesn't dare to really kiss her, just holds her mouth on hers and asks "Is this still okay?"

Brittany answers by dropping her hands and bringing them to her waist, and she glances into her eyes for a split second, so closely and intimately that she shivers, before kissing her back. It's careful and gentle, and she feels her holding back, like she still can't believe this is happening. Like she is afraid to believe it and give in completely.

"Are you sure?" She asks quietly after pulling away to catch her breath, searching in her eyes for any clues.

"Shhh" She shakes her head, while cupping her jaw and smoothing her thumb over her pink, swollen lips. "No talking."

The words stun Brittany and she just stares at her, dumbfounded for seconds, and there is a part of her thinking she might push her away and shut the door right into her face with a loud bang.

Then a faint smile grazes her lips and she has no idea what is happening in her head, but she has no time to figure out because they are kissing again.

Brittany is kissing her, and she is not holding back anymore.

It's almost desperate how she is clutching her dress, trying to pull her even closer, holding her so tightly no air remains in her lungs. She is only breathing because Brittany is breathing into her mouth between the rough kisses, all tongue and teeth, bruising her lips and smearing her lipstick all over the skin around her mouth.

They are acting on raw need.

It's the only thing existing in both of them right now and it is driving them wild.

Brittany's hands sneak downwards and she is palming her ass, bringing their centers together and she lets out the loudest fucking moan. It's embarrassing how turned on she already is and it's amazing how she doesn't care the slightest bit.

She always cared before.

Now she just pushes her backwards and they stumble into the house at last, Brittany kicking the door closed before Santana presses into her body again. Her back hits the door with a thud and she winces into her mouth, but she quickly forgets about the pain because she kisses her neck, sucking on her skin and grazing her lips over the spot. She lets out the most amazing moan when her hands wander to her hips and dive into her pants to touch her finally.

To her surprise though, Brittany doesn't let her go all the way. She grabs her wrist and she can only yelp when she is pushed against a wardrobe all of a sudden, with so much force that everything is kicked onto the floor, papers flying everywhere and things clacking on the hard tiles.

Neither of them really care.

Brittany pushes her legs wide open and presses between them with her body, while sucking on her earlobe.

She owns her and she is not used to it.

She tries to take control, ripping the buttons of her shirt open while biting on her shoulder, but Brittany doesn't have any of it. It sends a shiver down her spine how she pulls away and looks at her, daring her to continue and she completely surrenders under her gaze.

Brittany smirks, and pushes her hands under her tight top and strokes her sides with her fingertips until she finds the clasp of her bra. She unclasps it and pulls it away just that she can squeeze her breasts roughly while licking inside her mouth. It almost sends her over the edge when she pinches her nipples.

But it's nothing compared to the feeling when she drops on the floor and pushes her skirt upwards to hover over her center.

She can't even see her properly, but fuck can she feel her.

She can feel everything.

And Brittany slows down excruciatingly, trailing her fingertips from her ankles all the way up to the insides of her thighs and she is trembling under her touch when she finally hooks her thumbs inside her thong. She is panting so hard she is afraid she might faint when she pulls it down on her legs and looks inside her eyes. She is staring at her while bringing her legs gently to rest on her shoulders. She looks so fucking pleased with herself it would annoy her to no end any other time.

But this is so not like any other time.

This is different.

This is so much more than any other time.

When Brittany's lips hover over her and she inhales her scent before licking between her folds, it is fucking everything.

Her lips wrap around her clit and it feels like she is wrapped up in every goddamn feeling she's ever felt around her. She can feel every lick and graze so intensely, every stroke and squeeze so forcefully she feels she might tear into pieces because a person can't possibly feel this much and stay alive.

And this is enough to send her over her own boundaries.

"Please, Brit" She begs, breaking her own rules. "Please"

Then Brittany is pushing her tongue inside her and she loses her ability to speak, to hold back, to think about what is happening.

She can only feel it.

How she is stroking her on the inside with her warm tongue and then how her lips wrap around her clit, sucking on it until she is crying out, all the air leaving her lungs as her orgasm shatters her. It's suffocating, every cell in her body twisting and turning until she is turned out of her body completely.

She feels like falling.

It's the scariest thing and she can only see darkness around her for what feels like eternity, when someone is kissing her lips.

She can barely open her eyes to see it is Brittany.

It's Brittany who is catching her. She gasps into her mouth, and Brittany cups her cheeks, holding her until she can breathe again.

When she finally can, she needs no excuse to kiss her back this time.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and tell me what you think!**


	7. Part 6

**So I edited this chapter finally, and it's slightly improved from last night's version. **

**I have to tell you writing this chapter left me all drained and empty, but I'm already right into making a draft for the next. **

**In this chapter I'm giving a lot of clues about things happening in the background, secrets yet to be revealed, so watch out and pay attention to the details!**

**I appriciate any kind of feedback. **

**Tell me what you think, what you feel, anything!**

**emmanuelle-s. tumblr. com**

* * *

**Part 6**

They fall into a pattern.

She falls into a pattern. She wakes up in the morning, tired and sour, goes to work and acts like nothing is going on while subtly avoiding Brittany through the day, goes home, pretends to go to sleep and sneaks out in the middle of the night.

She feels pathetic every time.

She doesn't want to complicate things by telling Quinn. The last thing she needs in her life right now is another person's judgment.

She doesn't need it, because she knows it by herself.

She knows she's doing a bad thing.

That's why she can't face them with the truth that she's sleeping with Brittany almost every night since that party.

It's funny how she went there to get that thing out of her chest, trying to fuck that feeling out of her body and forget Brittany for good, and new she is addicted to her.

She is addicted to her.

Her confident but caring fingers, her passionate but gentle tongue, her eyes that are hungry and patient at the same time when she steps away to pull her dress over her head. She is addicted to the things they do to her. They blow her mind every time. It's embarrassing how quick she stumbles over the edge, but she doesn't have much time to think about it because Brittany doesn't let her. She is there again, with the fingers, the tongue, the eyes that are so full of this incomprehensible need that sometimes she gets scared.

Those are the times she stops her and runs away.

It's really hard to look into her eyes the following morning. But the long hours of working and shutting her mind down are enough to convince herself to go back, and act like she hasn't just pushed her away and got out of her house, head hanging and eyes burning from the shame.

Shame and embarrassment, they've always been inerasable parts of her life.

Now she feels them more intensely than ever before and it makes her confused why she still goes back every time.

She's figured alcohol might help, and since the night she decided to gulp down a double scotch and then make it three at the bar before climbing in a taxi to go there, she is pretty good at shutting her mind down during too.

It doesn't really make her mornings easier though.

When the sound of the alarm clock starts echoing from the walls of her room, it gets pretty fucking hard. It feels like nails are digging into her scalp and her brain is trying to escape through her orbits, pushing out her eyes until she feels her whole head is about to explode. Modern medicine helps her out and the awful pressure is gone in a couple of minutes, the physical pain completely numbed.

Sadly, it doesn't make her thoughts and feelings go away.

It is worst, when much to her humiliation, she wakes up being wet sometimes.

She knows it means she can't get Brittany out of her mind even while sleeping. She must be dreaming about her, and it makes her feel perverted, and also grateful she doesn't remember a second of these naughty dreams in the morning. There is a tiny part of her though, who is awfully curious.

Maybe in her dreams, she is able to do things she can't in reality.

This possibility is scary and so exciting at the same time, but she convinces herself it's for the best she can't remember, because it would make her longing so much worse.

She feels pretty fucked up and she doesn't dare it imagine what Brittany must be feeling.

What happened the first time, she didn't let it happen ever since. She got a taste of how dangerous it could be to let go and just feel, when Brittany made her come the first time and she lost all control and coherency, and it was the scariest thing she's ever experienced.

Ever since, she doesn't let go.

She dominates, she decides, _she_ is the one in control.

Their encounters always start out to be rushed and desperate, but she can't help herself to slow down and enjoy it for minutes, before she pleasures Brittany or demands to be pleasured. She is pushing them towards the edge by force and she knows Brittany is strong enough to stop her, but she doesn't. She lets things happen and lets Santana do it in her own way, and plays the part she wants her to play. Sometimes she is not so willing, and she is annoyingly caressing with her fingers and exploring with her mouth, and she makes her feel weak.

And she fucking hates being weak.

So she runs away and cries.

Then the morning comes and it's bad, but she lives.

She lives, she forgets and she goes back every time. Fom her part, Brittany lets her and goes with the flow, just lets the things between them happen in her way. She gets left behind, but she still lets her in every time she turns up at her door when the stars conquer the nighttime sky. It's a circle and she gets used to it so much she can't imagine how she lived her life before she started sleeping with Brittany Pierce every night.

They are moving in a circle and she can't find the way out. She doesn't want to put and end to it, even though she knows it would be the right thing to do. Guilt occupies her feelings after each occasion, because what she truly does is damage and it's a mess and she swore not to hurt her.

So a big part of her day she is trying to convince herself that she isn't.

That what they have is purely physical and it feels good, amazing even, so it's right. Because how something that brings her so much pleasure could ever be wrong? It's the best sex she's ever had. And judging from the barely intelligible words Brittany moans into her ear when her fingers crook inside her, it's the best she's ever had too.

If it turns into more, she knows she will have to stop.

Until then, they follow the pattern and neither of them can stop.

/

Sometimes she is sure as hell there is not a more annoying thing existing in the world than the probing look of Quinn Fabray.

She doesn't know why she feels so threatened by the idea of Quinn knowing what she is doing at nights, but she does and her curiously exploring look feels like something cold is crawling under her skin. Her hazel eyes are invading and she averts them at all costs while driving the car on the highway.

It's the third Monday she can't stop yawning.

Good thing the road is far from being crowded at such an early hour of the day, so she doesn't really have to pay that much attention. As the presentation is edging closer, the earlier she is keen to start the day. Quinn willingly accompanies her, though they spend most of the drive in silence. She likes to have her in the car, just sitting, completely wrapped up in her own thoughts so it's just her presence she has to bear. She likes to have Quinn here like that, but sometimes she is different. Sometimes she crawls out of her thick shell and she feels like she is being pushed by her to be let into her own.

But hers is just thicker and she is guarding it at all costs.

"Just spit out Quinn!"

"What?" Quinn ask, completely stunned but she shoots her a glare.

She looks away, being caught of staring and clears her throat. Her perfectly manicured nails seem to catch her attention and she looks down, her cheeks a bit rosy from embarrassment. She probably regrets staring now.

"You've been staring at me for fifteen minutes straight and don't act like dumb shit, I just know when you stare because it creeps the hell out of me." Santana says knowingly without taking her eyes off of the road. "And you know what bothers me even more?"

"Uh"

"Is that you're looking at me like I'm this huge fucking mystery of the world and you wanna know shit, so just spit it out! Let's just get it over with!"

She is being awfully harsh and Quinn winces at her swearing.

Second pass before she sighs, and turns her head away from the window and looks at her again.

"It's just…there is something going on, isn't it?" She asks carefully.

Santana's fingers squeeze the wheel more carefully and she concentrates on the road real hard while trying to feign incredulity.

"What are you talking about?" Her brows furrow, acting like she is taken aback by the accusation.

"You tell me" Quinn spats back.

She snorts, because it's really immature what she is doing. But she can't brush this feeling off of her that she just knows. She is afraid Quinn knows what is going on with her, but wants her to say it out loud and that's why she is pushing her.

"There is nothing to tell, Quinn" She presses firmly after swallowing the lump in her throat, but her resolve is close to succumbing and her hard voice can't hide her inner weakness perfectly.

"Oh please" Quinn snorts and shakes her head, not quite believing what she just heard. "I've never seen you this exhausted and I know you're working your ass off, but it's just…strange. You are strange and I just…" She trails off and her soft tone tugs a little at her heart.

She sighs, because fuck, Quinn is just worried and though she knows there is part of Quinn that is trying to forget about her own problems by getting involved in hers, but mostly, she is just worried. It makes her sit less stiff in her seat and loosen the muscles of her shoulders considerably.

"I'm fine, okay?" She shoots her a confident stare, and can't stop herself from blurting out the words that rush upon her throat. "And you have your own shit to worry about."

She immediately regrets it and bites down on her bottom lip, wincing.

"It's so nice of you to remind me." Quinn says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Look I'm sorry, but really Quinn? You and I, we are both fucked up, that's nothing new. So I don't get why you are suddenly so…" She trails off, not quite able to find the right words or say them out lot for that matter.

"Concerned? Sometimes I don't even know…" Quinn muses, quiet but still so loud she can hear it and it hurts her, because she knows she doesn't deserve her compassion. She's never deserved it. "But don't worry, I learned my lesson, it's your 'shit', I'm aware of it now."

She gestures with her hands, dejectedly and turns her head away to look out of the window again, finishing the conversation on her part.

"It's my shit, yeah." Santana nods, whispering her last words before speeding up.

She is exhausted, stressed out and Quinn hasn't really helped her just now. Without intention, she just made her feel worse and now she can't wait to take the last miles as fast as she can and arrive at USC.

She really can't wait to finally work and shut down her mind today.

/

This is an important day, an important week altogether and the stakes are the highest they've ever been.

If something goes wrong, her fate can be changed, for the worse and the weight of this threat is lying heavy on her shoulders, but she tries her best to make things go in the right direction. She does everything she can, she starts her working two hours before anybody to prepare for the day, she plans the day, she reviews others' work, she comments and corrects, gives direction and motivation. She is pushing everyone towards perfection, because this is what they need to be at the end of the week, perfect.

Her presentation of their flight plan has to be perfect.

If not, the board will decide to cancel the mission and she will lose her one and only chance.

She will be stuck here forever. And she just can't allow that. She can't even dare to think about that.

So she is willing herself to make everything perfect.

/

At nine am sharp, she gets up from her work station and makes her way to the round room.

To her great joy, everyone is already there, waiting for her patiently and having casual Monday morning conversations. Some are still drinking their first coffee of the day. She marches in the room, and ten pairs of bright eyes follow her every move, as she is sticking her mini disk into the built in computer and her presentation lights up on the huge screen.

She turns her head towards her audience and shoots them a confident smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have to start by telling you that I feel honored to lead such a fantastic team." The boys whistle, and she pulls up an eyebrow. "Okay, don't be so proud of yourselves just yet, we still have a shit ton of work ahead of us until Friday."

Their expressions turn serious in an instant and they are waiting patiently for her to elaborate.

They are an excellent team, every one of them talented, enthusiastic and hard-working. She has amazing material in her hands, but there is always room for improvement, both as individuals and as a team, because they are seeking perfection here.

"So, let's get into it, shall we?" She clears her throat, before changing onto the next slide. "First, I want to show you how we started out and how our plan evolved over the past weeks, and where we are standing right now."

They are listening closely as she is reciting what each and every one of them achieved and what they managed to put together as a team, strict in her observations but not shying away from giving credit where it's due. She is not singling out any of them, but it can be felt which one of them she is more than pleased with and she is subtly motivating the others to grow and reach their level. It has no connection whatsoever to how she feels towards them. Noah, for example, is lacking the precision she desires and judging from his determined expression at the end of her review, he knows it and he is very committed to improve.

This is what she needs, most of all, this dedication that shines from their eyes while she is speaking.

"This is what we achieved, and we did great, but great is not enough guys. It's far from enough." She shrugs her shoulders and they don't seem surprised that she doesn't compromise and settles for this level of excellence. "So let's see what we have to do to convince them we don't just have a great plan…we have the best fucking plan that's ever been approved in this room."

Eyes widen and mouths hang agape when she moves onto the next slide but their shock is something she is completely prepared for and hopes that competent enough to handle.

"I know what some of you think I'm crazy right now. And yes, I am crazy but I got inspired and I know we can do this. This is the right approach, I can feel it…" She leads their eyes through the modified plan that is being displayed on the screen with a red laser pointer. "But I don't have the authority to tell you it is. I want you to see for yourselves, to understand and you all have a say, because we will vote. We will stick to the safe or we raise the stakes, we will decide together." Their eyes turn to her and she nods to clarify, because democracy is not something that is usual at the company. "Either way, we choose as a team and nobody will have the right to question the decision after we leave this room."

They all nod to agree, some of them after a few seconds of deliberation and she knows they are the ones she has to really convince.

She elaborates the modification that can be seen on the digitalized plan, and explains the reasons she changed their original approach, sharing her vision with them and offering a handful of reasons why she wants the team to use the new version.

At the end, she asks for their opinions, open for any kind of criticism or advice.

They dive into a serious discussion, and much to her surprise, there aren't a lot of them that are needed to be convinced. Her plan seems to stand for itself, and it gives her a great sense of satisfaction. But she is not entirely happy because there are still three teammates out of ten who are skeptical. So they make a list of pros and cons, and go through all the possibilities of where each plan can go wrong, so everything is clear and they are aware of all the information there is to know about both flight plans.

One person stands out still, when she summarizes what they know and asks for them to raise their hands if they made a decision.

And that one person is Sam.

It's fucking hard to detach from the fact that her best friend is the one and only jeopardizing her plan, but he does have a right.

He has a right to be unsure. He has a right to think differently, because she gave him that right as she gave it to every one of them.

She even feels a bit sorry for him.

He hates being in the center of attention, and everyone's eyes are glued to him right now. They are all waiting for him to say no, so they can lash out on him, and he is actually embarrassed to stick out, blushing under their piercing gazes. He is the one preventing her from gaining her team's utter trust in her skills and her judgment, but still, she has a great deal of respect for him to hold his own against the others.

The pressure is high, tangible in the air, but Sam doesn't surrender.

"I'd rather stick to the original plan I think. It's safer and I just…" He mumbles, quiet but so loud in the otherwise dead silent room, unable to meet her eyes and Santana sighs, because it's really hard not to just squeeze his hand and tell him it's okay.

A second or two passes and they are waiting for him on the edge of their seats to find the right words.

"You afraid, Sammy boy?" Sugar, the strangest girl she's ever met throws in, smirking and reaches out with her hand towards Sam.

She is mean and Santana hates it, though she is much worse sometimes when it comes to treating people.

"Sugar, please, shut your mouth!" She shoots the girl down and Sugar crawls back into her seat, embarrassed and stares into her lap. "This is no joke, am I understood? This is dead serious and there is no room for bullying each other for our opinions. I won't allow it." She says slowly, not afraid to sound a bit intimidating. "So here's what we are gonna do. I'm giving you two hours to think through everything that's been said here and make a final decision. Two hours, no less, no more. And everybody will have to reason why they vote this or that way."

She motions them to stand up and leave, and turns her back to them to stare at her plan, observing it and trying to be more than sure that they agree with her because it is indeed the best approach, though more dangerous and unconventional than the original. They sure would be able to spare time and a great deal of other resources, but there is prospect of failure. After all, nobody's ever done this before so they wouldn't enjoy the comforting sense that successful experiences exist.

She hears them all leaving the room, and the silence lulls her mind as a deep sigh leaves her mouth.

"I'm sorry"

She jolts up and snaps her head back to see Sam still sitting in his chair and stare at his hands on the table.

"Why are you still here?" She clears her throat awkwardly, not really having an idea how she should behave with him now.

"I'm just sorry, you know?" He glances at her with a pained expression on his face. "I'm sorry for not standing on your side."

"There are no sides, Sam. These are just…" She trails off, shrugging. "Plans."

The word hangs in the air and it sounds awfully false for her ears because they both know these are not just plans. These are the options of their future.

These are the options how they will make history.

"Then why does it feel like I have to choose between you and -"

"Don't be stupid!" She shoots him down, and instantly regrets using such a harsh word. "Look, it's your decision and I don't want our relationship to influence you. Just think about it and decide, there are no consequences, I promise."

She tries to melt him by acting like the bigger person, though she is not sure she won't break her promise if things go down that way.

He nods up and down, musing at her words, and sighs before standing up.

She follows him with her eyes and hopes for the sake of their relationship she will be able to separate him and his decision completely, if the time comes.

"Then I guess I will see you" He mutters, lingering at the door, staring back at her.

"In two hours" She says, forcing a half smile on her lips.

"Yeah"

He whispers, without any life in his voice before turning on his heels and leaving her behind.

/

Her frantic heartbeat is drumming in her ears, blood pulsating and heating every cell in her body until she is feeling awfully hot in her tight, form-fitting costume. Her black satin blouse is sticking to her skin uncomfortably and she can't properly breathe because the tension in the air is suffocating.

They are voting in the order of how they're sitting at the table, and there is still one before they get to Sam.

She has to wait out every one of them giving their reasons and it's fucking hard to be patient right now.

When Sugar is done, she might throw up every second.

"So my vote is…yes." She drags it out before shooting her a pleased smirk, and leans back in her chair, throwing her hair behind her shoulders. She looks like she's just announced she won the next election, she is so pleased with herself.

Santana can't help but chuckle a little at her quirky manners.

Her smile fades completely when her gaze settles on Sam.

He is not meeting her eyes, sitting still in his chair and his hands are clasped tightly in front of him. It doesn't make Santana believe he will say the one word she wants him to say.

"It's your turn, Sam" She clears her throat, trying to rise above and crosses her arms in front of her chest to muster up the strength she would need to hold her body up even if he says no.

She can't let her team see her disappointed, and sad, so she tries her best to hide her emotions and force a kind of cold detachment on herself.

"I still think the original plan is safer." Sam starts out, and she looks away because she can't bear to see him. "And I've always tried to stick by the safe and the conventional. But there is someone in this room who showed me time after time how to be brave." She freezes, hands clasping her own body desperately. Oh how she needs someone to hold her right now.

"And that person is you."

A choked breath leaves her mouth and she wills herself with sheer force to hold back her tears if he says no even after all this.

"I trust your judgment more than mine, and I'm not afraid to be brave anymore. I trust you, so my vote is yes."

His words take her breath away for a second, but in the best way possible.

She drops her hands and hides behind her palm for a second, smoothing away a strand of hair while trying to get back her proper breathing. She can't help but shoot him a grateful smile, before moving onto the next person, who happens to be a proudly grinning Quinn.

It's a formality after him, because they all vote yes with absolute confidence.

And she can count the occasions on one hand when she's felt better in her own skin.

The vote finished, the decision made, she introduces them to the extended details of the new flight plan, and assigns them the tasks needed to be completed before Friday.

"The director gave our team complete authority in planning our flight, but I'm gonna introduce the idea to her on Thursday before the board presentation, so this is the deadline people. We don't have much time, but my trust is in your hands and I know we can make it."

The force in their eyes makes her shudder and she gets lost in the moment, because she can feel how they are turning into a unity right at this moment. And she is the one making them unite. They all came here as young people full of hopes and dreams, full of raw talent and confidence, but all they were is individuals. Now they are slowly turning into a group of people sharing a special bond, a sense of entitlement to their mission and the others involved.

And her heart is about to burst from pride.

"If things go as smoothly as we plan, we will make quite an impression on Friday. We have a chance to make history, so reach out with your hands and touch it! It feels fucking awesome and we don't want to let go, do we?" She raises her eyebrows, and some of them even stand up, feeling the weight of the moment and it's making them rise to their feet.

"No"

They say in unity, all standing in the circle now and Santana's smile is reaching her eyes.

She is not afraid to show emotions right now.

It doesn't make her feel weak at all.

No more words are needed, so she slowly exhales and trails her eyes on their faces, giving every one of them a look conveying everything she is feeling right now before raising her chin high and biting her cheek on the inside to keep herself from grinning.

When she feels their eyes burning holes into her face, she sighs overdramatically and rolls her eyes with false annoyance.

"So what are you waiting for? Get out of here and work your asses off, so we can finally make ourselves proud!"

They chuckle at her, and she shoves them away with her hands, not able to hold back her grin anymore as they leave the room.

Just to have them in her team, she already feels fucking proud.

/

On their way to the cafeteria, she nudges Sam.

Through all the joy and satisfaction, she can't help but wonder about something.

"Can we talk for a sec?" She whispers, not to grab the attention of the two blondes walking in front of them.

"Yeah, of course." Sam stops in his tracks and watches her fumbling with her hands for a bit.

She is nervous as hell.

"Back there in the room, you didn't just vote yes because we are friends, did you?"

She stares at the dark marble tiles, and he sighs deeply.

"I told you why I did it."

She glances at him and he shrugs his shoulders, not about to repeat his reasoning. His words should speak for themselves, but she didn't really understand them back then and it hasn't changed since.

"What you said about me…I know it's far from the truth." She whispers.

"You don't see yourself like I do…like we do." Sam is referring to her friends, she guesses, and she wonders how they look at her, what they truly think about her. "Because you just…being here…is the bravest thing I've ever seen."

His eyes are so open and full of underlying respect, it stuns her completely.

She can feel something rushing up in her throat and she can barely force herself to swallow the words. She wants to be brave so badly, and tell him what she's been hiding from them, but she can't.

She can't lose his respect now.

"Thanks, Sam"

That's all she can say not to crush this look in his eyes right now.

"There is no need." He smiles softly. "I trust you."

She knows he is still talking about the mission but she can't help but feel she is undeserving of his trust when it comes to their lives, and their relationship.

What she is doing with Brittany, it makes her unworthy of his trust.

But she is not able to stop, so there is just one way and that is hiding the truth, telling lies when needed and most of all, acting like a coward.

/

It's always a sweet torture when they are having lunch together.

There are two scenarios and both are worse and better than the other in a way.

If Brittany takes a seat beside her, she feels her presence so intensely she doesn't need to touch her to feel her being there. Her senses come alive like sleeping volcanos erupting and all she can hear is her calm breathing and her gentle voice, because she just can't bear to look her in the eye from so close. She is afraid to.

That ocean there would drown her and she has to stay above the surface.

When they start eating and she can't hold her hands in her lap under the table or cross them in front of her chest anymore, they are slightly trembling and she has to concentrate really hard not to drop a bite beside her plate.

Basically, she is ignoring them.

She is mostly silent and acting detached, while they are eating. There is no other way, because she can't trust herself if she opens her mouth to talk.

She almost slips a couple of times still.

Nobody seems to catch on, but she is afraid to ask Brittany whether she noticed and think their friends did or not. She can't ask her, because she is not like her. Brittany is not afraid to tell them, she is not ashamed of what they are doing. So it would just hurt her more if she asked.

She doesn't ask, and as the time passes, she talks less and less, until all she does is chewing very carefully and swallowing the food and the words that crawl onto the tip of her tongue sometimes.

They are choking her.

She musters up all her strength to force them down her throat and bury them back inside of herself.

She manages somehow.

But sometimes, Brittany decides to sit opposite of her at the table and that's when it's harder to avoid looking at her. She can deal with her mouth, and her hands, but she just can't force her eyes away. She shoots Brittany glances once in a while, without any purpose but to see if she is still there. And she is there of course, looking at her with eyes more clouded than ever before. They are not open anymore, they are not piercing with the brightest blue she's ever seen.

Brittany is guarded.

She is trying hard not to express her true emotions, hiding behind her wicked humor and her attentiveness towards the others, but she fails, miserably sometimes.

Because Brittany is an honest person.

She can't imagine how hard it must be for her to act according to her rules, to hide, to lie, and pretend against her will. It's cruel how Santana is forcing her to, without outright saying it. When she left after that night, she made it obvious and that was it. Ever since they are in it together, because she is dragging Brittany down, into this dark hole she got used to living in since forever now. Brittany is getting a taste of how she is living her life, full of lies, tricks and manipulations and she can't imagine how she would feel about her if she got to know she is not the only secret Santana is hiding.

Far from it, really.

Brittany is the best secret she's ever hidden, and the most bittersweet of all.

It wouldn't offer a condolence if she knew.

So Santana acts like Brittany is no different from all the other secrets she's hiding and it makes her feel the worst person in the whole world.

Now it's one of those occasions Brittany rushed to take a seat next to her, and though she tries to figure out how she decides every time, she fails miserably.

She has no clue, and she gives up wondering about it.

They talk about their weekends, and she just shrugs when it's her turn and they all staring at her, and she claims she was just resting. It is apparently the most obvious of lies she could possibly come up with because Quinn rolls her eyes and even Sam raises an eyebrow, who she really hopes has no clue whatsoever that resting was the last thing she did through the weekend.

Quinn cuts off the uncomfortable silence, asking Brittany if her parents paid a visit as they planned.

She tells them they couldn't make it, something about her sister needing every second to study so she could get into an academy.

Santana doesn't really pay attention to how the conversation flows after this, because she can't get her mind around how she never thought about Brittany's family before. Of course Brittany mentioned she has a sister, but the sad and slightly bitter tone she used just now makes her think there is more to this fact. But how would she ever know, if they don't really talk.

They barely talk.

And most of those encounters involves a lot of small talk they make out of courtesy and lots of heavy silence.

She sleeps with Brittany almost every night, and she knows her body. She knows what she likes in bed, and what drives her crazy and what turns her into a whimpering mess, and what makes her beg for release. She knows her body, but she knows almost nothing about _her_.

Sam knows Brittany, they shared a past and things happened to them, and between them, and he knows way more than Santana could ever know about her. That's something she never destined a thought to. It is just how it should be.

But Quinn knows more too and that's something she never considered would happen.

When Brittany came into their lives, Santana was anxious that she would somehow lose their place in the group because the new girl would take it. It was a gratuitous assumption and Brittany made it clear. She didn't knock on the door, demanding to be let in, she was just her open and caring self, and they let her in by themselves.

And now she's wondering how much they've truly let Brittany in.

Maybe her fear back then, it was not as stupid as she thought.

They are all getting to know each other, because they care, and Santana is here, left behind, because she can't let anyone in.

She's never truly let anyone in.

Quinn, Noah and Sam, they know stuff, of course.

They know her secrets, the dirty baggage she's carrying on her shoulders, but most of the times she's trying not to acknowledge this, because it's frightening and makes her feel weak, and dependent. They know all these details of her past and most of her present that have been ruining her and making such damage to her self-esteem she has problems looking herself in the eye in the morning.

Sometimes Santana wishes they didn't know.

But most of the times, she wishes there just wasn't anything to know.

She's trying hard to act like that, to be strong and independent, like she doesn't need their shoulders to cry on, their arms to be held in and their words to believe in.

She loses it sometimes, and they are still always there.

And even though they've survived everything together, and she likes to think about them as mates for life, there is a faded, chilling thought in her head that she will lose them once. It makes her insides coil, and she tries her best to push it out of her mind, but she just can't. It's always there, sometimes more apparent, and it makes her scared and drives her away from them, and then she's just getting closer to make her nightmare real.

It's a circle and Santana wishes she could be strong enough to get out.

Brittany is letting them all in, and she wishes she could be strong enough to be there too.

But she's not, so she is just sitting here, trying to act like her heart is not breaking when she looks into Brittany's sad eyes, like she doesn't notice they are glistening and the sad girl has to exhale a whimper to keep her tears at bay.

"I just miss them, a bit. I never thought I would but…" Brittany shrugs, dejectedly. "I miss home, you know, I knew everybody there and now I just feel a bit lonely."

"You are not alone, Britt."

Sam leans forward and strokes her hand softly and the intimacy of this conversation is making Santana uncomfortable. She feels like she's invisible and she's witnessing something that she is not meant to be a part of, like she's invading. But for a reason, it all feels awfully personal too.

"You have us now." Quinn agrees to Sam's words, gentleness lacing into her voice.

Brittany smiles a little, appreciative of their efforts but she looks far from being relieved.

"I know and I really appreciate that you're all so amazing to me, but…sometimes I feel like I don't belong here. Everybody is so perfect here, and I'm just not." She says quietly, and every word makes Santana drift further and further away, and tugs her closer at the same time.

Brittany is saying _her_ feelings out loud and it's a punch right into her chest, making her heart miss beats she would need to stay conscious, in control of her emotions right now. She is saying everything out loud Santana's never been able to express, never been able to share because it fucking hurts.

It fucking hurts to feel this way.

Santana is the one who doesn't belong here. Everybody is perfect, everybody is valid, and she is just not. She was not born to belong here, she is not meant to be.

She doesn't belong here in this conversation, in this room, in this building and this whole fucking world.

And Brittany is feeling the same way, and she is not afraid to face it, not afraid to say it out loud.

"Nobody is perfect" Sam reasons with a shake of his head.

"He is right. Everybody has flaws, we all have. We are no different than you."

Quinn says and Brittany's eyes turn hopeful, brighter as she stares at her and Sam, considering their words but she lets out a sigh when her eyes settle on her face. It's a sad sigh, a defeated, hopeless sigh.

Santana is burning under her gaze that is trying to get under her skin and search inside of her for a tiny fragment of hope that she might feel the same way as Quinn and Sam. That she thinks they are no different too.

But they couldn't be more different, and Santana would rather let Brittany get the worst of assumptions than showing her why they are truly different.

She would rather hide behind her assumptions than tell her the truth.

Because if the truth came out, Brittany would know that Santana is the one who is different than all of them.

Santana is the one who is worse.

"Maybe you aren't but…" Brittany trails off and looks away to stare into nothing, and the words the girl is holding back are biting into her flesh, leaving her wounded.

She is thinking about her, she must be.

"But what?" Santana chokes out, her voice rushed and cracking.

Brittany's eyes return to her, and they share a moment when she feels nobody else is present, it's just the two of them at the table and she feels the need to say something, to say something that make Brittany understand why she is making her feel like they are different. Brittany is trying to figure it out, to decipher her unsaid words and it's painful to see her struggle so bad to understand.

So Santana looks away and Brittany lets out a sigh she seems to have been holding forever.

"Nothing…it's just…nothing. I'm just being silly."

Santana's face screws up at the word she uses, because she is making Brittany feel like she is too silly to understand. She is making a fool out of her, and it makes her want to throw up, because she feels too dirty and rotten inside.

"It's not silly at all, Brittany." Quinn says firmly, and her voice turns slightly bitter. "People are trying to act like they are perfect around here. They are making you feel like you're not worth as much as they are. This is how we were raised, and how our society works. But you shouldn't care about them"

She dares a glance at Brittany's face, and she is still staring at the same spot, her eyes glassy and her expression sunken, beyond what she can handle to see. The depth of her feelings is beyond what she can possibly handle.

"Sometimes it's just hard not to care…when people make you feel so unworthy"

Brittany whispers, but the words are screaming inside Santana's head, too loud and harsh, and it hurts.

"I know. But anybody who acts like that should go to hell. They don't know you, okay?" Sam asks, and it hurts how she is one of those people. "And they don't deserve to."

He is right.

She doesn't deserve Brittany, and she's never felt it more profoundly. She can never truly have her.

Still, when Brittany whispers "Yeah" seconds later, she feels like she just lost her.

/

She doesn't have much to time to lick her bleeding wounds.

They are left ripped open, and she hopes time will heal them and make the aching stop, because she can't soak up the blood, clean them out and put bandages on them.

She can't because she has no time to figure out how.

So she tries really hard to ignore them through the rest of the day and she succeeds well enough, because her work doesn't lack the precision, the speed and diligence that brought her to the top. She is pushing herself very hard, because if not, she would crumble and the things that ground her would slip away through her fingertips.

She doesn't stop working until she is forced to.

/

Everything is different outside.

Quinn is in the car, so she can't let herself feel it at first.

She doesn't let her mind wander back to the conversation that is trying to haunt her until they arrive home and she excuses herself to go into her room. She lies on her bed, not having the energy to change into comfortable clothes, and stares at the ceiling. The whole conversation at lunch is imprinted in her mind, and she can recall every painful detail vividly. Every flutter of Brittany's eyelids, every gesture of her hands, every creak between her eyebrows, every smile that died on her lips because of her.

She doesn't even notice she is crying until she can't see anything and a teardrop slides onto her lip.

She licks it off and swallows, but a sob breaks out all of a sudden, and she is not crying anymore. She is sobbing and she curls into herself, turning her face into the pillow to muffle the sounds, but it's all pointless, when she can't muffle the beating of her aching heart.

She is crying desperately, unable to stop until every muscle in her body is aching for release.

She feels like she is losing her mind, and an undeniable force inside her is driving her moves as she sits up and starts unbuttoning her shirt. Her body convulses with sobs, and she has to take breaks to wipe off another set of tears while she is shimming out of her clothes, until she is completely naked on her bed, chest heaving and limbs trembling from the effort of crying and something different she can't yet place. She forces herself not to think, just feel the warmth of her own palms on her stomach. Her muscles twist under her touch, not just because she is still crying. Every breath she takes is forced, and her heartbeat couldn't be more rutted under her fingers when her hand wanders to her chest. She cups her own breasts, and squeezes them together roughly, and pinches her nipples until she sobs from the pain, the pain she feels inside coalescing with the pain she is causing herself on the outside.

It's delicious and dreadful, and it turns her on, painfully so.

When her nails graze down her abdomen, leaving bruises on the way and dig into her hips, she bites down on her bottom lip hard and her face screws up from the effort of keeping her sobs inside.

She can't keep them inside anymore when she touches herself.

They break out, with such force that she traps her hand between her convulsing thighs and turns to her side to curl into a ball. She is choking her sobs out while her fingers work in the tiny space between her legs. She pushes three fingers inside of herself and the pain numbs her, forcing her to grab the sheets with her free hand until she can pull out and push back in, rough and uncompromising. The pain subdues as she is fucking herself desperately, not letting go of the sheets to draw a circle on her clit or stroke her breast.

She doesn't do this for the pleasure.

She doesn't know why she is doing this until she is coming on her fingers and her whole body is shaking from the pain and the pleasure until she is left on the bed, empty and drained, her fingers still crooked inside and tears still breaking outside, with nothing but the image of Brittany Pierce imprinted on her mind.

/

She still feels sore when she stands up from her chair at lunchtime.

She's been avoiding everybody up until now, and it wasn't that hard considering how much they have to work till Friday comes. She only sneaked out of her room to grab a bite when she woke up in the middle of the night and went to work before Quinn had a chance to even show up.

It does get harder, actually impossible because they are all waiting for her outside in the lobby.

Brittany is there too, and a flutter of her eyelids is enough for Santana to know she noticed.

Though she tried her best to hide her puffy eyes behind extensive make-up in the morning, the signs are impossible to cover up when such observant people like Brittany and Quinn are around her. Quinn is quite a skillful one too, when it comes to this expertise, so she notices immediately too, and her stares are harder to ignore because Santana knows she will ask, even if all she will get back are mean, defensive words instead of an honest answer.

She is completely prepared to shut her out later.

But now all she has to do is walk properly, trying to ignore the ache she feels between her legs.

Because if they noticed that, well, she doesn't want to imagine what would happen then.

/

It's great having Noah with them again, though what he shares is bad news.

"There is nothing. Not a sign of life coming in." He shakes his head, his forehead wrinkled so much he looks years older than he actually is. "Nothing."

He went to the navigator room yesterday, to inquire about the mission and its people they are all deeply concerned about.

The mood sinks low at his words and everybody is chewing quietly like they feel inconsiderate, outright impolite to eat while their friends are not even sure to be living. It irks her horribly, and she drops her knife before she can stop herself.

"Look, there is nothing wrong okay? They are alive and they are coming back, I know it." She shakes her head, trying to brush off any negativity of her shoulders.

Noah shoots her a grateful look, and Sam nods up and down at her words, staring at his plate with wide eyes.

She sighs and brings another bite to her lips, when Quinn cuts off the calm silence again.

"How can you be so sure about it?"

She snaps her eyes to Quinn's face and she is glancing away, almost embarrassed that she is arguing with Santana

"I just know it, okay?" Santana raises her eyebrows, and she can't get a grip on how Quinn is not sure, when it's completely obvious for her that they are coming back.

They have to come back.

"What if they aren't though? What if they are all dead now and -"

"Shut up Quinn!" She cuts her off, hissing lowly not to grab anyone's attention.

Her best friend is making her blood boil and she has to force herself not to stand up, grab her from the chair and shake her, until she forgets all this horrible stupidity.

"Girls!" Sam tries to soothe them, but mostly her, and reaches for her hand.

"Don't touch me!" She shoves him away, not caring for the hurt expression on his face. She turns back to Quinn, leaning forward and daring her to argue when she asks. "What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Do you even hear yourself? How will you look into their eyes when they come back if you give up on them now?"

Quinn is standing her intense glare, but she has to glance away when she gulps and dares to speak again.

"I don't I just…how can we be sure?

"We can't be sure, but -" These are the only word that rush out of Santana's mouth and all she can do is shake her head, desperately as she is searching for the right reason that will make Quinn believe.

"There is always hope."

Brittany helps her out.

And her soft words offer the one and only reason.

And even though the way Brittany says it while looking into her eyes would make Santana believe in anything and everything, she knows there is no hope for them, together.

/

The only thing preventing her from falling into depression is work.

Sylvester approved of the plan, she was truly impressed though she tried her best not to show it and praise her too much. She didn't care, because she could see the determination on her face that she made the right decision by choosing her to lead the mission.

So the mission is going in the right direction.

But everything else in her life sucks.

She feels her friendships are all hanging on thin rope, especially her relationship with Quinn, with whom she seems to be unable to have a conversation without jumping into an argument nowadays. Noah and Sam, they are easier to handle, but she feels like she is betraying their trust by not telling them what is going on with her and Brittany.

And Brittany, well, she doesn't even dare to think about their relationship.

Or this thing between them she can't even define.

So she is pretty shocked when she gets a message from her Thursday night while she is trying to fall asleep.

"_Hey"_

It says, and she has no idea what a proper answer should be.

"_Hi"_

Santana stops there, because a question like 'what's up' would sound the lamest thing she could possibly write, so she settles for a greeting.

Her heart is hammering in her throat, as she is waiting for another text, excitement and nerves making the adrenaline rush high in her blood and she knows she's just lost her faint chance to fall asleep tonight when the phone in her hand starts ringing.

It squeezes all the blood out of her brain, and an inner force drives her to move her finger and push the button to take the call.

And she is not prepared at all to hear Brittany's soft breathing on the other side.

"Brit?" She sighs into the phone and embarrassment instantly burns her face for using Brittany's short name, like everything between them is more than fine right now and they are just having a casual conversation.

She buries her face into her free palm, because Brittany called like two seconds ago and she already managed to fuck up once.

"I wasn't sure you'd still be up, so…I just sent a text." Brittany says, her voice a bit unsure and slightly surprised.

She doesn't seem to have prepared for Santana to take the call.

"Yeah I got it" She says, with a faint chuckle.

"I know…cause you like, answered, so"

Brittany says quietly, and she sounds like she's trying real hard not to break into giggles.

"Right"

She rolls her eyes, because fuck, she acts like a nervous teenager with reduced social and mental abilities around Brittany. Even when they are just talking over the phone, miles away from each other.

"I just wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow." Brittany says softly.

It's really nice of her to call because of that, and she is truly grateful for her support.

"Thanks. I really appreciate it" Santana says honestly, then waits for a reply. When it doesn't come and seconds pass while they are listening to the other's breathing, it gets intimate and therefore too uncomfortable, so she prepares to just cut it off before she ruins everything. "Um, if there's nothing else than I should probably -"

"I miss you" Brittany whispers all of a sudden.

It's so quiet Santana can barely hear it.

But she did.

"Brittany…" She shakes her head, though the person on the other side can't even see her. "It's only been three nights." She chuckles, trying to turn it into a joke, but the words come out too harshly and mocking to sound even a bit funny.

"So what? I miss you." Brittany repeats, with a kind of fondness that she can't really handle. It does feel like forever since they've shared a bed. "Come over tomorrow, after the party."

She almost pleads and it makes Santana feel bad for making her beg for it.

But she doesn't want to give in because she doesn't want to hurt Brittany again. She is doing it for her.

"I'm not sure this is -"

"You don't have to answer right now. I miss you, that's all. I miss having you here and doing stuff, with you. So just think about it. You have until tomorrow."

The call cuts off abruptly, and she is left there wondering why, why Brittany wants her so bad if all she's done is treating her bad, and making her feel unworthy.

She is not sure why Brittany still wants her in spite of everything.

But maybe it's purely a physical need and though she gave up on Santana, she still wants her, her body unable to let go of the ache.

It makes Santana think she is not the only one addicted.

/

The presentation is a huge success.

It's like a fucking dream.

The board members gushed all over their team and the plan they've managed to put together, praising their courage to choose such a progressive, historic approach. They assured them of their everlasting support and wished them strength for the following months.

She almost couldn't believe her ears when instead of questions her presentation was instantly followed by applause.

Questions came of course, some complicated and even tricky, but she didn't surrender.

She answered with a kind of poise she never thought possible in such a difficult, life-altering situation.

The team made her proud all through the week, and she gave something back by presenting their plan like it was written in the books.

It was perfect, she was perfect and it feels like a fucking dream.

"You were perfect" Sylvester whispers when they leave the room and turns to her. "And you know you're dead if anyone gets to know Sue Sylvester has ever used this word but…you were perfect."

Sylvester closes her eyes for a second like she herself can't believe it and hums with utter satisfaction, and Santana smiles bashfully.

"I was a bit afraid they would find it too risky, but we managed to convince them."

"Uh, they loved it, I tell you." Sylvester shakes her head, and then leans in to tell a secret. "They just didn't want to give in so easily. They like to make people feel they are the one in charge. But they couldn't really come up with anything today."

A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, and Santana's never seen her act so informal with anybody, like they are completely equal.

"You made me proud today." She says with emotions she never though Sue Sylvester could bear lacing into her usually hard voice.

"It was a team effort, director."

Santana tries to reduce the amount of credit she's giving her, because it really was a team work, with every one of the mates doing their bests.

"Of course, but you really made me sure I was right by putting my trust in you."

The director says, and her sincerity is making her uncomfortable, because she is betraying this trust of her every day she comes to work into this building.

"Thank you" That's all she can say, before she feels someone's eyes bore into her side.

And make her skin creep.

"Director, I hoped we might have a little chat today." Schuester cuts into their conversation, coming closer until she can smell him.

The taste of disdain on her tongue makes her want to throw up and wash her mouth until she can't even remember this taste. And can't even remember what makes her feel it.

"Dr. Schuester." Sylvester greets him, and Santana is stunned by the emotions flickering in her suddenly hard eyes. She clenches her jaw and it feels like Santana is looking at her own reflection. "As you can see with your more than able eyes, I'm talking to Miss Perez right now."

"Ah, Miss Perez" He chimes, acting like he just noticed she is here and wasn't feeling her body up with his eyes for a minute before he came closer. "Word is out, you were quite impressive just now."

He says in his usual tone, gooey and dripping from forged politeness.

"She made an amazing job." Sylvester says, and for an odd reason Santana feels like she is defending her.

This situation is just getting weirder by the second, and she wants to run away from them and stay here just to make sure Schuester doesn't say anything to Sylvester at the same time.

"Oh she does that every time, doesn't she? You must be quite impressive in everything you do, Miss Perez." He sneers, and she clenches her fists at her sides to keep herself from punching him.

He is so close to get a reaction from her, but she can't risk everything just to act on her revulsion and punish him.

So she just looks away, her body burning in flames from repressing her feelings, her shame, her humiliation, her anger, her hatred, everything.

"Schuester" Sylvester clears her throat and Santana snaps her eyes at her. "You wanted to talk to me, didn't you?"

What she can see in the older woman's eyes, but not quite see clearly, it confuses Santana to no end. She knows her own reasons to feel this way about the doctor, she knows them too damn well. But Sylvester is acting exactly like her, rigid and cold, her face hard like stone, but her eyes vulnerable, and she has no idea why.

How he could displease her and still stay in his place, she really has no idea.

It's a mystery she is both enraged and fucking grateful for.

"Now that I think about it, it can wait some more." Schuester says, stroking his chin like he is deeply deliberating something then drops his hand and shoots them a forced smile. "Director, Miss Perez, it was a pleasure as always."

He emphasizes the word 'pleasure' and it sends an icy shiver down her spine.

She feels nauseous after every time she has to bear his presence. It's like she's been infected, her body burning in flames and freezing cold at the same time and her muscles rigid, but trembling. She feels panicked and has to take a deep breath to keep everything in.

She doesn't trust herself to say anything, but she doesn't really have to, because Sylvester lets her go, telling her that the day is finished for them, they can celebrate or whatever they want to do.

Santana forces a smile on her lips as the director leaves her behind, but she sucks her lips in the second the woman turns her back to her.

She inhales and exhales deeply through her nostrils, before she is finally able to unclench her fists and text her friends.

/

Another mystery she just discovers is why she always drinks scotch.

She doesn't even like it all that much.

She likes that it burns and makes her feel warm in an instant, but that's it. She doesn't like the taste and when she drinks more than one, she outright hates it.

She is not sure why she is still sticking to it.

It's what she's gotten used to and fuck, it's just one of those things she does and can't explain why she does it.

She is the same when it comes to women.

She's played these games for a long time, which doesn't even make her happy, or satisfied but she still couldn't stop before Brittany came into the picture. She played alone until Noah came into her life, just trying to have fun by hooking up with blondes on Mondays and brunettes on Thursday, youngsters on weekdays and olds on weekends, whites one week and colored the other. She counted every occasion, and the number was getting higher and higher, but she still felt no satisfaction. When she told Noah the number, he choked on his hamburger and she had to hit his back for minutes before he asked for clarification.

It felt like she grew an inch in his eyes, but she felt nothing.

Still, she agreed to make bets from then on.

For mostly his amusement.

She won a lot of money by sleeping with people he picked out for her, because they were too gross or seemingly too hard to conquer. She failed way less than him, but it didn't do anything to her pride. She just slept with an extreme amount of people, but only a few came close to make her satisfied. But she never really let them try, so she wasn't surprised. She only slept once with every one of them. She didn't call any of them back, she didn't return to any of their beds, she moved onto the other in an instant.

She didn't respect her partners, but most of all she didn't respect herself when she had sex with them.

She still has no respect, when it comes to who she gives her body to.

It's not a big deal for her, to get naked and let them touch her, kiss her, do things to her body, to let them invade her and have a bite, like she is a piece of meat. It doesn't disturb her, because she does so much worse. She uses them all to her own satisfaction and throws them away. She hasn't changed through the years at all.

If it wasn't for Brittany, she would still be playing those games and making those bets.

If it wasn't for her, she would still never have slept with anybody twice.

And it's so strange.

Just to kiss Brittany and not be surprised how she tastes, to undress her and not be surprised how she looks, to touch her and not be surprised how she feels, it all feels so strange and fucking amazing.

So amazing, she can't stop thinking about her while she is circling her drink in her glass, staring into nothing.

"Hey woman, why are you so thoughtful?" She feels a hand pat her back hard and she drops her glass on the bar, the drink flowing out and making a mess.

She quickly turns it up but it has no point.

"Oops" Noah laughs, before taking the seat on her left side.

He turns towards her, grinning unabashedly. He stinks of vodka, and cigarettes, the usual combination.

"Hey asshole" She rolls her eyes at him, and tries to shrug his hand off that just settled around her shoulder. "Try not to scare the shit out of me next time if you will"

"All right, don't be so angry with me, darling" He says in a cheesy tone. "I'm getting you another drink in an instant"

He taps his hand on the bar, and Michael shoots him an annoyed glare from afar.

"Don't call me darling Puckerman, else I will hang you up by your balls!"

She shoves his hand away and shakes her head, while he is looking at her bewildered.

"That would require you to touch my balls, and though I wouldn't opposite, I thought you're not a big fan." He says after long seconds of deliberation and she snorts out loud.

"Oh my God" She buries her face into her hands, because how this man could be her friend, sometimes she has no idea. He is gross, he is embarrassing, and immature and dorky as hell, and God, she fucking loves him.

She drops her hands when her face feels like it's not burning anymore, and looks at him closely.

"You are fucking drunk"

"Hell yeah" He nods up and down, and she is afraid he might throw up on the bar if he is moving his head so intensely.

Michael comes closer to them, but she waves him away, because Noah's had way too much already judging from how he's zoning out beside her. And her, well, she doesn't want to get that drunk tonight.

"So you know, I was wondering about something." Noah says, raising his glassy eyes to her face.

"Shoot me"

"What is going on between you and the hottest blonde on planet Earth?" He asks lowly, and she frowns, making him elaborate. "I mean Brittany"

"Nothing is going on." She says on instinct, glancing at her red nails.

It's the perfect opportunity to tell him, but what's the point, she suddenly can't seem to find it.

"So you just…got over her or what?"

He sounds confused, but she can't offer him a good answer, just a lie.

"I wasn't ever really…" She trails off, unable to come up with the right words. "It was just sex, you know? It was nice, but it was nothing else."

She shrugs, uncomfortable under his quizzical stare.

"But is this all you want? Why don't you date her or something?"

"Are you really such a retard Puckerman?" She spats at him, harshly, suddenly fed up with this conversation. "I don't date women, I fuck them. And I certainly wouldn't date her. She is our friend now, or whatever."

There is some bitterness lacing into her voice she hopes he can't detect in his wrecked state. She doesn't know why she feels a pang of jealousy when she thinks about Brittany being their friend. She has no reason to fear she would lose them because of her, that Brittany would take her place.

She hates to admit but she is pretty sure her jealousy works the opposite way.

She is jealous of them being _her_ friend.

"Well, that's true. I really like her, you know." Noah agrees, sharing his sentiments. "And Quinn and her, they've gotten pretty close."

So her assumption was true, they are really getting closer. They probably know things about each other Santana doesn't dare to ask about or doesn't dare to get an answer to. She wonders how much they truly shared with each other.

"So I noticed" She whispers, too quiet for him to hear and tries to avert the nauseating image of Quinn telling Brittany stuff about her.

They spend seconds in silence until he clears his throat awkwardly.

She looks at him, and he is frowning.

"But wait, if there is nothing going on…then why haven't you told me about you latest adventures recently?"

"I was working if you haven't noticed" She rolls her eyes, grateful for this perfect excuse.

"Uh, that's reasonable I guess." He rubs the back of his neck. "But are you hooking up with someone tonight?"

The question makes her swallow the lump that just formed in her throat, and she sighs, because finally, she doesn't have to tell a lie.

"Yeah, I am."

Though she is not sure her and Brittany count as a hook-up anymore.

/

The girls look amazing.

She even has to take a second look at Quinn, because she picked an unusually slutty dress for her level and it's showing a lot of milky skin. Santana doesn't really feel anything looking at her, but she has to admit, her best friend really stepped it up for the night. Her blonde hair done messy, and she is sporting pink lips and smoky eyes, but she couldn't care less, not like Noah whose jaw drops on the floor beside her when they spot them in the club.

Brittany, though, she is a fucking vision.

And it does all kinds of things to her.

They gravitate towards each other and Brittany greets her by kissing her cheek, and congratulating for her success, and she almost dies.

She turns into a complete mush and smiles bashfully, as the blonde girl grabs her wrist to lead them back onto the dance floor.

Sam is there too, and they start dancing all funny with Noah, making them all giggle. They form a circle and she really enjoys how Brittany is constantly touching her unintentionally while dancing. When their shoulders bump into each other though, she gets a little suspicious. She turns to her and Brittany averts her eyes, biting down on her bottom lip like a kid caught in mischief. Santana shakes her head and they share a wide smile before getting back their rhythm and working their bodies in sync with the music.

They all have fun, and she drinks a couple of rounds.

She doesn't really count it, until she feels good, what would be the point.

Some kid offers her pills when she is trying to find her way back from the bathroom, but she shoves him away. He looks way too young to be even employed by USC, but everybody has their ways. He got in, and though she knows the pills he is offering are harmless, and they can't be traceable in substance tests, she takes only a second to deliberate before yelling at him to get the hell away from her.

It's fucking tempting still.

Being high would make everything easier.

When she stumbles back to her friends though, pills or not, things get wild.

Brittany starts dancing inside the circle, and they boys are whistling and clapping like crazy and fuck, the girl is swaying her hips begging to be fucked. And she is looking right into Santana's eyes while touching her body, trailing her fingers on her chest, tangling them in her waving blonde hair until she stops all of a sudden and then pulls Quinn into her.

Brittany is leading their dance, and they are getting closer and closer, and she is releasing the wild animal out of Quinn. They are shaking their hair, arms wrapped around backs and shoulders and hips rolling in sync. They are so close their breasts are touching and she licks her lips when Brittany's hands make their way to Quinn's ass.

And she feels like she's never been more turned on and appalled at the same time.

In a split second, she finds herself pressed up against Quinn's back and grabs Brittany's hands to place them on Quinn's hips, while hers settle on her best friend's breasts. She is rolling her hips into her ass, and she swears she hears Quinn moan when Brittany kisses her bare shoulder. She looks up into Santana's eyes when her pink lips leave pale skin, and Santana holds their eye-contact while licking a path up Quinn's neck to her ear.

Quinn's nipples stiffen under her palms, and she sucks on her earlobe, making her whole body tremble.

Brittany's eyes darken even more, and she strokes a path down with her hand on Quinn's thigh to dive into her dress as an answer. They are still staring at each other when Santana lets go of Quinn's breasts and grabs Brittany's hand under Quinn's dress to push it into her core.

Quinn swears and throws her head back on her shoulder, melting into her body as Santana is rubbing her with Brittany's fingers.

They are playing a game and it feels fucking delicious because there are no stakes for them.

They are kissing Quinn's skin, and touching her body, but they are going to have sex with each other tonight.

They are pleasuring Quinn in the middle of the dance floor, but this is about the two of them, this is just for the two of them, for their pleasure.

They are playing a game, but they are playing it with Quinn, and it's selfish and wrong, but they can't stop.

Until the boys force them to. Sam's arms wrap around her waist, and Noah pulls Brittany back, until it's just a panting Quinn standing in the middle, humiliated that she's been used, and then she's breaking through the crowd, crying, Noah following her steps. And then Sam is looking at them like a world just shattered inside him, and then she is left here alone with Brittany.

And she feels really bad, but she is still turned on like never before and she is left alone with the one person who is driving her crazy all night.

She steps closer and touches Brittany's hips with one hand, the other settling on her waist. She is warm under her touch, and Santana pulls her closer until she can smell her perfume, and the sweat covering her skin everywhere. And the amazing smell under all of these layers, a scent that is just her.

"I want you" She rasps out, and her eyes are boring into her blue ones.

Her pupils have never been wider and Santana's chest tightens by the want in her eyes. They are both seconds away from launching on the other and ravishing them.

Brittany touches her bottom lip with her thumb, wiping off some lipstick on the way and Santana can't stop her tongue from poking out and licking her finger.

"I'm not wearing underwear" Brittany says in a whisper, and she almost faints, because Jesus fucking Christ, this woman.

Her eyes roll back into her head when Brittany finally leans in to kiss her.

"Follow me in ten"

But she doesn't, she just breathes this into her mouth, soft and warm, and then she is gone, and Santana's hands are grabbing thin air and her eyes are glued to the spot she was standing a second ago.

Brittany is gone but she can still feel her everywhere.

And she can't wait to truly feel her again.

/

She is outright banging on her door.

She spent the drive here recalling what Brittany's been doing to Quinn before she joined in, and it boiled her blood the same way as it did when is truly happened and now she's banging on her door, turned on and so fucking mad.

She is so mad at Brittany.

She is mad at her because she is driving her all crazy and turning her into this strange, new person, and she is making her feel all these things, and making her realize how fucked up she and her life truly are.

And fuck, she just can't.

But what she can is push her tongue into her mouth when she opens the door and dig her nails into her back as she pulls her into her body. She locks Brittany into her arms, kissing her roughly, feverishly, biting her lips and licking her teeth, and making her squirm, and moan and pant into her mouth.

She pushes her inside, and knocks her back to the door, but Brittany's wince turns into a moan when her hands stroke down her sides and pull her dress up until she is palming her bare ass.

Then she pushes a leg between hers, and feels her amazing wetness on her naked thigh.

And Brittany's head falls onto her shoulder, her hips grinding down on her thigh and she is suddenly making these amazing sounds, every one of them shooting a jolt of pleasure right into her very core.

Santana kisses all over her shoulder and neck, and she can't get enough while Brittany is fucking her thigh, so she rips her dress and lashes on her exposed chest to suck on her nipple.

Brittany's fingers tangle into her hair, and she pulls it painfully, and it's all so fucking dirty and it's everything she's ever wanted.

She's never felt this way, like she wants to have someone so badly even though she knows she can't.

For tonight though, she settles for this.

She settles for Brittany's fingers massaging her scalp, her arousal dripping onto her thigh, her nipple stiffening under her tongue, they all feel fucking amazing, so she settles.

But not quite for this, because an urgent need causes her to pull away and her mouth to let go of her breast with a pop, and her hands rush to grab her wrist and then she is pushing Brittany further inside the house. They are stumbling over the floor, each other's feet and God knows how, they get to the couch, and she is hovering over Brittany, her thumbs stroking her ribcage, while she leans in to kiss her mouth again. It's gentler this time, but still passionate, and needy, and then slowly tongue finds tongue again, and she can't stop her hand from sliding downwards until she is touching her, in the only right way possible.

Her fingers explore her, softly and timidly, for a long time until Brittany is squirming under her, hips bucking up into her hand. Santana pulls away from her mouth to rest her forehead in the crook of her neck as she widens her folds, and dives into her wetness.

Brittany is moaning into her ear, and Santana starts kissing all over her neck, while coating her wetness up and down, her other hand wrapping around the low of her back.

Brittany is so fucking sensitive she has to bite into her shoulder, when she touches her clit for the first time.

"Please" She whispers, when she can breathe again. "Please, I need you…I need you inside me"

She is begging Santana, wanting her, craving her and for the first time since they've met, she feels like Brittany is truly at her mercy. And she can't get enough of this want that is pouring out of this amazing woman below her, dripping onto her fingers and flowing into her ear, and inside of her until she feels the same way as she does.

"I need you too" She rasps into her ear, with desperation, while she places her fingers to her entrance.

Brittany is rushing to act, her fingers searching frantically until she is inside Santana's thong, between her folds and then they are pushing into each other at the same time.

And they both cry out, because it's been only three days, but it's been so, so fucking long.

She grinds down with her hips, wrapping around Brittany's fingers more and more, and deepening hers inside her and she is burying her face into Brittany's sweaty neck, panting onto her salty skin, and both their moves are getting more frantic by the second until they are writhing, their hands twisting, fingers crooking, thumbs stroking and hands clutching at backs and shoulders, because they have to feel each other everywhere.

When they come, her stumbling over the edge and Brittany following seconds later, she feels _her_ everywhere and all she can do is hold onto her, hold onto this feeling until she is collapsing on top of her. And she is clutching her so close she feels like they are slowly emerging into one if she doesn't let go.

It's frightening, and she doesn't know what to do with all these feelings and then Brittany kisses behind her ear, and pulls out of her gently to wrap both her arms around her back.

Nobody's ever done that to her, nobody's ever held her like this and she doesn't know what to do.

She is so confused she almost breaks into tears when Brittany starts rubbing her still clothed back. She is nuzzling behind her ear, and it feels like all the air is being squeezed out of her and every conscious thought is evaporating, until it's just her and her utter confusion. So she does what's easy, what she can do, and that is having sex without feelings.

Her fingers start moving inside Brittany again, and she is about to turn too rough too soon, when long fingers wrap around her wrist tightly.

"Stop" Brittany whispers into her ear, quiet and hard.

Santana struggles, when she stars pulling her fingers out of her, but it's pointless, because she is so much stronger.

She just proves it again when she turns them over, quick but graceful, and straddles Santana's hips.

"I should go" She whispers the first, and last words that come into her mind while Brittany is looking down at her, palms flat on her ribcage.

"No"

"Brittany"

She tries sitting up, because fuck this is not going anywhere, this is not how this should be happening.

This is not what she's used to.

She is not used to someone looking at her this way, like all she wants is her to trust them and give herself to them, to let them in.

"No. I'm not letting you go tonight" Brittany pushes her back to the couch and leans down, her expression turning gentler again. Her hair hangs around her face, and she feels a bubble forming around them, locking her in. "I want to see you, please"

It is such a pure wish, her heart is ripping into pieces as she tilts her head to avoid Brittany's eyes and brings her arms up, reaching up beside her head.

She lets Brittany do it, whatever she wants, she lets her see her, touch her, feel her how she wants, just for tonight, for the first and last time. She can do this, she is trying her hardest to convince herself as Brittany rises from her hips and her patient fingers find the hem of her dress. She pulls it over her head and Santana is still not looking at her, when all she can feel is her eyes boring into her eyes, her face, her chest, searching and consuming everything they find.

She bites down on her bottom lip when Brittany starts pulling her thong down her legs, gently grazing her skin with her knuckles.

And when is naked completely, like never before, and Brittany settles back on her stomach, it feels like Santana is doing this for the first time, and maybe she does.

Like this, this is the first time.

And she can't hold back anymore.

Her eyes trail up on Brittany's body, from the spot they are touching up to her taut stomach, her perky breasts and her long neck, until their eyes meet and she surrenders, completely.

Brittany is holding her gaze as she starts moving, slowly and passionately on her stomach, rubbing herself on her clenching muscles, wetting her skin and making her ache with arousal. Her thumbs stroke Santana's ribcage and both their chests start rising and falling faster, and then Brittany is touching her breasts, so innocently like she is not sure she is meant to do this or not, until Santana guides her palms onto her to cup them fully. She holds her hands there, and feels her heartbeat flying impossibly high. They both start moaning, softly, when Brittany starts squeezing her breasts and grinding down on her stomach with more force than before.

It's all so slow, every stroke shy, every moan deep and quiet, every move hesitant and lingering for second.

This is everything she shouldn't be doing with Brittany, but she is, and it hurts how amazing it feels.

When she thinks about that this is the last time she can be with her, like this, she has to force her eyes away because she can't bear it.

She closes her eyes and brings both of Brittany's palms to her mouth to kiss them hard, before she slides down on the couch and hooks her arms under the her thighs.

This is what she can bear.

Brittany's breath hitches, when Santana lays the first kiss on the inside of her left thigh. She pokes her tongue out and licks her wet skin, and sighs at the taste. She is kissing all over her thigh, before turning her head and doing the same to the other one. Brittany is trembling above her, and her hands grab her shoulders, weakly, fingers stroking the sides of her neck as she is kissing her, licking her and biting her gently. A moan breaks out of Brittany when she leans even closer to smell her and her warm breath hits her wet core.

And the loudest erupts when she licks inside her for the first time.

Her tongue buried inside her, she holds her down with her fingers digging into her thighs, and Brittany wraps around her so tight, so wet and delicious, she almost comes herself when she starts grinding down her face.

She's never wanted to pleasure someone like this before.

She's never enjoyed how their thighs lock around her head, how their hands clutch desperately her scalp, how their fluids are dripping onto her chin, and how she feels their inner muscles convulsing around her tongue. She's never let herself enjoy this, though she is almost sure, this has never truly even happened to her.

This is the first time she is giving everything to someone and she is too afraid to open her eyes to see how Brittany is taking it.

So she is just feeling it, on her scalp, her face, her tongue, her fingers, everywhere.

But it's not enough when Brittany is coming, and she is cupping Santana's cheeks and she is daring her to open her eyes, begging her without words, with her soft moans, her trembles, her convulses, that are all devoted to her and only her.

Santana gives in, she opens her eyes and lets herself see it, and Brittany is coming for her while looking into her eyes and it is the most beautiful thing in the world.

It's the fucking most beautiful thing in the world.

And she has to ruin it.

"Can I go now?" She chokes out, when Brittany is collapsed on top of her, her body slumped, her breathing even again and forehead resting right on top of her left breast.

The only sound she can hear is her own frantic heartbeat for seconds, and the air is freezing around them, and she wishes the Earth would just rip open and consume her completely.

That would be better, so much better than feeling Brittany shake with a sob over her heart.

She sits up, turning her head away and pushing her palm into her face to muffle her desperate sobs, and Santana's never hated herself more. She is too afraid to move, so she just stares at Brittany while she is pulling her dress over her head, not caring it's outside in, rushing frantically to cover herself up and not showing herself to Santana anymore. When she's done she tilts her head to the side and their eyes meet for the last time, and she just knows Brittany figured her out. She figured it all out.

There is no hope for them, together.

"Please go now" She whispers, her voice cracking and then she is walking away from her.

And Santana hates herself, because she knows Brittany is never coming back.

/

The whole apartment stinks, and it makes the vomit come easier.

She clutches her stomach with one hand, the other fisting her hair while she's throwing up in the toilet, pathetic little sobs erupting from her when she is all empty and done.

She is resting her head on the cold tiles for a long time, until she feels cool enough to handle the reality. Every time her mind wanders back to what happened with Brittany tonight, it's a punch into her chest and she is done with heartache.

She can't have more tonight.

Just not tonight.

So she sits up, slowly not to make her head spin even more and stumbles out of the bathroom, crosses the hall and climbs upon the stairs.

The smell is worse upstairs and she doesn't have to wonder why because there is an empty bottle of vodka on the mini bar, and an ashtray, full of cigarettes.

She glances towards Quinn's door, frowning, because she can't figure this whole mess out. She has her own shit to worry about, but she would much rather handle Quinn's tonight.

But maybe not tonight, she just can't think more tonight.

All she wants to do is just fucking sleep, so she grabs the empty bottle and throws it into the trash, pretending it's her life she is throwing into the trash so she could just wake up in the morning and a start a new one.

A life, where she would get another chance and not ruin it.

Not like tonight.

* * *

**Sorry for breaking your heart over and over again. But I promise this story will make it flutter a lot of times in the future. And it will make it stop, and rip open, and bleed and everything else but I think it will all be worth it.**

**The next chapter follows another leading character's narrative.** **Guess whose!**

**So what do you think about this mess so far?**


	8. Part 7, Quinn

**Dear everyone!**

**I would like to add a few comments now that I have finnaly time after my initial update, andI hope some of you will actually read these:**

**First of all, thank you for the constant support! I feel really blessed that people care about this story, and this is one of the reasons why I think I'm getting such powerful reactions to the chapters. **

**After this last one though, Part 6, I got a few harsher comments, and they made me question my abilities to truly express the questions and answers I'm trying to raise and figure out, the whole story that I'm trying to tell, the way I want to. I did a lot of thinking, and I decided that if there's just a couple of people who understand what I'm trying to do here, who truly _get_ this story, than it's worth to continue, and I'm going to continue the way I planned out, some time ago. **

**Because I planned this out, all of it, and there's purpose behind everything, everything leads to somewhere and this is what makes things evolve here. **

**So I'm not changing the direction I'm going with the story, I'll be sticking to my plan, my idea, and I'll continue telling my story and I hope there will be just one or two people at the end who will say that all the heartbreak and pain I caused were worth it, because they truly get it. **

**Lastly, I'm not trying to make the people who reacted negatively to the last chapter feel bad or anything like that. I just desperately want them to understand where I'm coming from, and well, where Santana Lopez is coming from in this story. **

**Please don't ever hold back from writing your honest opinion in a review! **

**Every comment I've gotten make me think, and if I think more about the story, then I think it'll just turn out to be better. **

**Thank you for reading this little message!**

**Please do review if you feel you have something to say about the story! **

**emmanuelle-s. tumblr. com**

* * *

**Part 7  
_Quinn_**

She prays to God when she feels it in the morning.

And Quinn Fabray hasn't prayed for a long time.

But when she feels the sheets scratching her bare skin raw, and that familiar yet so distant feeling of soreness between her legs, she just prays to God, because she doesn't know better.

She's praying aloud.

"Oh God, what have I done?"

Even though she lost her faith a long time ago.

It's been stolen away from her.

And God has turned away from her.

She has no reason to believe her prayers would ever be heard, or answered again.

Yet, she is here, white sheets clutched to her naked chest, face screwed up and buried in her hand, she is praying aloud to God.

"Please let this be a dream! Please, please God please let this be just a dream!"

But her prayer is unanswered, and she feels her heart sink lower than ever before through all her fucked up life.

She just lost another piece of it last night and the hole is aching, the lost piece missing. And she can't bear to feel this hollowness in the middle of her chest. She needs to make this feeling go away, and she needs it now, before the chilly morning air wakes her up, forcing her to embrace the feeling.

She is not strong enough anymore.

She is just strong enough to keep the cells of her body locked in place, to keep her insides from bursting out, to just keep herself together, existing.

She is just strong enough to think of the only way to make this feeling go away.

And it all just happens really fast when her feet hit the floor.

She is not even sure this is all happening to her, or if it's even happening outside of her head, because she feels she is losing control of her body and the limbs carrying her to the door are not hers, instead the they belong to a person she is making up in her own head. She is not sure about any of it, and she is not surprised, because if one thing is sure now is that she is losing her mind.

Her fingers reach out and grab her nightgown, pull it around her body, shaking and clumsy from the terrible reality this day made her face with. They wrap around the doorknob and she rips the door open, an unknown force breaking out of her.

She doesn't really take in anything, the sole focus of her actions is just to get to the bar.

Then it's all going to be better.

Everything is going to be better, if she could just find it.

If she could just…

It was there.

She swears to God it was there when she kissed him hard on the mouth, and he pulled her into his lap. She swears she saw a last faint glimpse of it when he carried her into the bedroom.

She swears to God, but it's not there now.

It's not and it makes her panic, blood sinking from her brain and breathing turning uneven, from the possibility that she might have to bear all this sober. She is not sure she is able to do that, and that's when she turns to God the second time this morning.

"Please…I can't please! Just let it be here, please…I can't do this, I can't…please God"

Her low murmurs are the only sound in the hall, the apartment, and maybe the whole world.

That's how alone she is feeling right now.

Bare feet sliding on the floor, steps frantic and uneven, she is stumbling closer until her elbows hit the bar, and she takes a second to breathe. When her eyes snap open again, vision blurred, she tries to think.

But it's really hard to think when all she wants to do is not think, but she has to.

She pushes herself off and reaches for the fridge, ripping it open and knocking a bottle out, and it's not there but she doesn't even close it before turning to the cabinets. She is throwing everything onto the floor, not even looking because she will just know when her fingers finally wrap around that bottle. The mess doesn't bother her, and that's one of the reasons she is sure she is going crazy. She is going completely crazy and it gives her a freedom she never thought would be possible.

And she never thought she would kind of enjoy it.

She never thought she would kind of enjoy it when a piece of glass cuts her hand and a drop of blood slides down her palm to her wrist. She is staring at it quivering on top of her skin, and feels just like that drop of blood, trembling on edge of the world, wishing she would just be falling.

And she just thought she would never think about _that_ ever again.

"Quinn"

A shrill voice is cutting through the silence as the broken piece in her right hand just cut through her skin, but she is still just staring. She is staring at the piece of glass, like it's just a piece of her broken heart, edges all sharp and rough, covered in blood. She is staring at it, and a second later she is staring at her wrist, but the thought doesn't even have time to appear on the surface because it's ripped out of her hand. The thought is ripped out of her mind.

Fingers wrap around her wrist, the drop of blood sliding onto caramel skin, and then she is shaking.

Santana is shaking her.

Her head is spinning and her insides are churning, twisting and she's losing her already weak grip on the reality. Her vision is blurry, and when Santana finally stops, she feels tears hit her cheeks.

Then a warm breath hits her face, when Santana leans closer, her face just inches away and her eyes daring her to look at her.

But she won't look at her.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Santana yells at her, and her breath hitches at the end, and Quinn doesn't know how someone can yell with so much resentment and rage, and still sound the most vulnerable person.

She stiffens even more at her harsh words, every one of them like sharp needles stabbing her chest.

"Let me go" She whispers quietly, and it's barely a desperate plead.

The grip on her wrists just tightens and she hates how she can't fight it.

She doesn't want Santana's help, not hers. She doesn't want her to be here. She doesn't want her to see her tears and hear her pleads and think she can make it all go away.

"Not until you answer me" Santana shakes her again, like it would change anything, like it would wake her up from a bad dream. But it's pointless because she is living that dream. "What were you going to do?"

And Santana is pushing her to admit it, but she won't.

She won't admit it, not to her.

"Let go of me!" She shouts back at her, the words choking out of her with spit, setting free another flow of tears as she snaps her eyes to look at Santana. "Let go of me for God's sake!"

And she can barely make out Santana's face through her tears, but they are looking at each other, and behind the water flow, hard black eyes are boring right into her soul.

And she feels Santana's warmth, and she hates it and she feels her sweet breath, and she hates it just the same as she leans even closer and whispers into her ear.

"There you go, just scream out of your head, and God will fucking come down and help you. Is that what you think…that he will save you…again?"

"Stop it!" A choked breath leaves her mouth and she starts trembling on her own accord, Santana's strong fingers offering the only bridge to the ground.

She keeps her in place, while whispering.

"Nobody gets a third chance, not even you, Quinn Fabray"

And something breaks inside of Quinn, something she's been holding together for a long time, with every effort she could make. Something that she kept buried inside is making its way to the surface and the force makes her erupt.

"I don't want another chance" She screams into Santana's face and everything stills.

Her words echo in the tiny space between them, the meaning of them stunning Santana so much she is just staring at her, with the weirdest expression on her face.

"Then I will fucking make you"

Then everything changes in a split second, and then she can't see Santana anymore, because she is forced to rise from the floor and arms wrap around her back and her thighs, and her breath hitches when her feet leave the floor because it's all happening so fast she can barely keep up.

"No, no, let me go" She screams when she realizes she is being forced in the air and carried against her will.

Everything is happening against her will.

Santana is forcing her and she is taking the choices out of her hands, and she hates it.

"I hate you"

She chokes out and Santana stills under her, and she doesn't know why the possibility of being let go and left alone seems so scary all of a sudden.

"You can hate me all you want but I'm not letting go"

Santana says, stubbornly before her legs start working again and she is carrying Quinn further, down on the hall as much as Quinn can make out through her tears.

"You have no right" She argues, her fingers clutching Santana's sleeping shirt, tugging desperately. "You used me and you…you and your fucking "

"Don't make this about me." Santana yells, her feet bursting a door wide open and arms pulling her down, and she is on her feet again, Santana holding her up as her words slap her face hard. "This is you Quinn, this is all you. It's you who can't let go of the past, it's you who is fucking her life up because she refuses to believe she could ever be love and…be loved. This is all you and I didn't make you do anything"

"But you're making me now" Quinn punches her chest with her fists, shaking her head frantically.

Santana stumbles away and her eyes narrow and a second later she is dragging her further into the room, and pushing her into the shower stall and then water is flowing onto her hair, washing the tears away, and wetting her clothes and it's so cold and so sweet. And Santana wraps her arms around her waist and the water turns warmer or maybe it's just Santana's warmth she feels when she leans in to rest her forehead against her temple.

"Because I can't fucking lose you, Quinn" She murmurs, and the words burn into Quinn's wet skin, leaving a scar forever. "I can't lose you"

And Quinn loses herself completely.

Her chest squeezes tight and she is struggling to catch her breath, and Santana's fingers hold her cheeks and she is the only one holding her together, while she is struggling to bear the existence and embrace all the feelings she wanted to push away for so long.

"Breathe, Quinn, just breathe" Santana begs, and it takes a moment or two to recall how to do that, then she spurts out water and inhales deeply to take in air. Her lungs fill up, and she takes ragged tiny and sharp breaths, and Santana's lips curl into a shaky smile. "Good girl"

And then they are breathing together, in sync, and Santana reaches to turn off the water, and Quinn hates not feeling both her hands holding her.

When she turns back to her, Quinn curls into her chest, her fingers tangling into the soft wet hairs on the back of her neck. And she doesn't know how she could bear all these terrible weeks, months without feeling the warmth of her best friend.

"I can't do this anymore, San" She whispers, and she knows Santana gets the meaning of her words. "I can't fight anymore"

She can't fight her feelings anymore and she can't fight her anymore.

They can't fight each other, because then there's nobody else willing to push them, to force them, to make them want another damn chance for a better life.

Santana nudges her temple with her chin to make Quinn look at her, and ducks her head so their eyes meet again, and her smile is soft, and watery. And it is relief that shines from her face when she opens her quivering lips.

"Then let's just not fight anymore"

/

The fresh white sheets feel so soft against her skin.

She's lying on her side, dressed in the fluffiest and most ridiculous pajamas Santana managed to find at home, and enjoys the weight of the comforter wrapped snugly around her body. Her eyes are closed, because as Santana so nicely pointed out earlier with an eye roll, this is the only way one can fall asleep. So she closed her eyes, but she got scared and couldn't hold it up for long.

When she opened them and looked at her, Santana promised she would stay until she fell asleep.

She made it look like she was annoyed, but Quinn knows it's just her inability to be nice without somehow pretending she is really not being nice.

But it got harder to pretend when she sat down on the edge of the bed, and Quinn felt fingertips on her head, just a feather light touch first, hesitant and awkward, like every action that shows Santana's true self, the person Quinn really knows her to be. The person only she and a few know her to be. Then she got over it, and Quinn felt her whole palm rest on her head, thumb stroking her forehead and fingers gently threading into her hair.

Santana is there, and she is guarding her from the bad, so Quinn is not scared to close her eyes anymore. She is not scared of the blackness consuming her, because she knows the lights will come back as sleep goes away again.

It feels so much easier to breathe now.

It feels so much easier to exist, when her best friend is stroking her hair, and she is singing to her. She is singing, and she hasn't been in forever, and she is doing it _for_ her.

It's so beautiful her heart flutters with every syllable Santana belts out, but she won't acknowledge hearing it. She won't acknowledge it ever happened, but she doesn't even need to. No words are needed here, because all that matters is that Santana is singing for her, and stroking her hair, and she is not fighting anymore. She is not giving up, she is giving in and her best friend is there for her.

It is more than enough now.

Because for the first time in a long while, it is so much easier to just be.

To just let sleep rushing over her, and wash away everything that ever made it hard to breathe.

/

She is dreaming with Michael.

He is walking towards her, his handsome face shining with purest delight, steps slow but deliberate, every one of them closing the gap between them, bringing him closer to her, bringing them together.

The best man she's ever known is walking towards her, and slowly she can take in every little detail that make her feel this way about him. He is a true man, strong, and respectful, and not afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve.

He is getting closer, inch by inch and she feels her smile getting wider, her heart beating faster with every step he takes. She is feeling it stronger with every flutter of her heart, the profound feeling blossoming inside her chest like the most beautiful flower, the purest feeling she's ever held inside of her.

The love she feels for him.

She will tell him when he gets there.

She won't be afraid anymore, she won't fight it anymore.

She is scared because he is almost there, and she is telling him, but she feels strong enough to overcome her fears. He is the one giving her strength, the way he is looking into her eyes and she hopes with every cell of her body he will look at her the same way if he knows.

He is almost there, but…he never gets there.

He stops, and his smile fades away, and he doesn't know what is happening as figures appear around him, hands tugging on his shoulder, clutching at his arms, his hands.

She wants to reach out and help him, but she can't move.

She is watching him struggle, desperately and his mouth is moving, but she can't hear what he is saying.

The figures slowly illuminate, shaping into the forms of real people, _his_ kind of people, his family, and friends he always talks so fondly about. There are older, and younger, all different in ages and forms, but one thing is the same, they all look at her with the strongest disdain.

Tina is there too, whispering into his ear, and she can hear every word.

Like sharp knives cutting her heart open.

"She is not one of _us_. She will never make you happy. She will never be a good wife to you, a good mother to our son." Tina says, and Michael's face screws up in pain hearing the words. "She betrayed you already."

Quinn's breath hitches, from the way his eyes snap at her, questioning and shocked, begging for a shake of her head.

She is crumbling under the weight of his stare, and soon he is looking at her the same way as they are all looking at her.

Disappointment and sadness form clouds inside his black eyes, but it is only the strongest disdain she can truly make out.

The hands let go of him, because they don't need to hold him back anymore. He is willing to leave her on her own. The forms evaporate, and he is the only one left there standing.

And she wakes up the second he turns away.

She wakes up with relief.

Because watching him walk away would have been the last thing she needed the day she felt truly strong again since the day her daughter had been taken away from her.

Maybe Michael will be taken away from her too, if she tells him, if she tells him everything, but she is not ready to face that just yet.

Not today.

Not on her birthday.

/

_I just didn't want you to think I left… or whatever._

_Come down!_

_S._

Like most cases, Quinn doesn't know whether to smile or roll her eyes at the adorable awkwardness of Santana Lopez.

Her fingers smooth the creases of the paper away, and with a deep breath, she puts the message back on her nightstand and stands up.

This is the first time she is standing up on her own, without any help today and it feels nice to be able to walk to her closet not feeling her legs will give up below her any given moment. It feels nice to trail her eyes over her clothes and pick something lovely for the day. It feels really nice to let her nightgown fall off her body, and stand in the middle of her room naked, and not feel dirty, having the strongest urges to hide behind layers so she can pretend she is pure.

She is not pure.

She's made mistakes, committed crimes, she has sinned.

But she is a human.

She is a human just like _them_, because she is flawed.

She is flawed on the outside, and the inside, and she is ready to embrace it today.

Her favorite dress doesn't feel right on her body. It just doesn't match her anymore and she dives into her closet to search for something else, something that feels perfect to complete her. She is digging into a drawer of pants, humming lowly at the selection when there is a knock on the door.

Santana doesn't wait for an answer, and a gasp and a dreadful squeal later, the door is banged closed again.

"God Quinn, I just gone fucking blind" She yells from the other side, and Quinn shakes her head, because of course Santana wouldn't feel weird feeling her up in a party, but she can't stand looking at her naked. "I so didn't need to see all that…ugh…Why are you swaying around all naked and shit?"

"You touched 'that' honey, or did you forget that?" She chuckles, walking closer to the door so they can hear each other better. She imagines Santana's expression turning bewildered at her words, and she can barely hold back her giggles.

"No, but thanks for reminding me!" Santana huffs, sounding completely dejected. "Look, I'm really sorry about that Quinn, it was fucked up, and I shouldn't have -"

"I get it and I forgave you already, so let's just move on" Quinn tells her, leaning against the doorframe.

"Oh, okay…so um…why don't you just put something on and come down? There is something for you there" Santana says, sounding equally nervous and excited, and Quinn wonders what it might be waiting for her downstairs.

"I can't seem to find anything…anything that feels right" She sighs sadly, and they dwell into silence for seconds, and just when an idea comes up in her mind, Santana's voice holds her thought back.

"I hate to disappoint you Quinn but I'm not throwing you a fancy brunch or-"

"Give me your shirt" She cuts her off, because Santana completely misinterpreted her words, and she is rather impatient here, wearing nothing on an early spring day.

"What?" Santana ask in a tiny high-pitched voice, like Quinn's outright asking for her to pull her shirt off and put it on her naked torso.

"Just give me your shirt, please…whatever you wear" She sighs, and hopes Santana won't mock her for her need to feel her best friend's warmth again.

She hopes Santana won't question her need to wear the shirt she's just wearing, not just any shirt she owns.

A couple of seconds pass, then the doorknob starts turning, and she lets out a relieved breath.

Caramel skin appears in the tiny space between the door and the frame, a hand holding a black ball of material. She takes it, and hangs up the shirt in her hands in front of her, and she has to bite down on her lip to keep her chuckle in.

"Don't you dare saying anything" Santana threatens lowly, leaning closer to the door.

Quinn can't hold back her grin anymore, and it just widens as she pulls the shirt on, smelling it when it hugs her torso snugly. It's longer and a bit looser on Santana's tiny form, but it fits Quinn just right.

"Thanks" She says, gratefully. "I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay…well, good." She can just imagine Santana nodding up and down awkwardly, not quite over what's just happened, but trying to act like exactly nothing happened.

But it's all good for Quinn.

It must be, when you're wearing a Captain Lopez shirt on your birthday.

/

There is indeed no brunch downstairs.

But the smells welcoming her are simply amazing, and her mouth is watering just imagining what is waiting for her in the kitchen.

She feels she could stomach everything right now, she is so hungry.

And it's been a long time her stomach hasn't been in tight knots when she started her day, so it feels really nice to be just hungry and feel she could eat all she wants, it would all stay inside.

It just turns better when she is cornering the kitchen, and Santana's humming fills the room, apart from the stirring and jarring, the sounds of cooking.

"Hey" She pokes her head inside, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips when she notices Santana wearing glasses.

She likes her like this, because this is _her_.

Curly dark hair loose around her shoulders, no make-up ruining her skin, and black edgy glasses sitting on the bridge of her cute nose.

"Hi" Santana smiles softly, turning her head to set her eyes on her from the meal she's tending to at the stove. "Oh, happy birthday to you" She says, with a hint of awkwardness like she is not sure whether she should let go of the frying pan and hug her, or it's enough that she just simply says it.

Quinn helps her out by edging closer and grabbing her free hand to squeeze it firmly for a second.

"Thank you" She says, while looking into her wide eyes, to make it obvious that she is not just talking about the birthday meal Santana is preparing for her.

She is thanking her for everything she's been doing for her today.

"Uh, it's nothing, really" Santana snaps her eyes back at the frying pan and Quinn knows it's time to let go of her hand. "You just sit down, there is tea for you, your favorite kind, Chinese rose and honeycomb."

Quinn raises an eyebrow and takes a look at the kitchen island, full of her favorites, biscuits, croissants, yoghurt, fruits, and surprisingly, her favorite kind of tea.

"I thought we were out of that" She frowns back at Santana, who stills for a split second, before shrugging.

"Yeah, but…I had to go to the store anyway, so" She says nonchalantly.

Quinn's frown instantly disappears from her forehead, and her whole face shines from the warmth she feels inside.

She is somewhat contemplating acting completely clueless and inquiring about which store Santana exactly means, because the nearest store selling her favorite kind of tea is thirty miles away, but she decides not to tease her, even though an embarrassed Santana is her favorite kind of Santana.

It's almost as rare as Chinese rose tea, and just as delicious.

But it wouldn't be fair to mock her now that she is acting so considerate towards her.

And judging from her ducked chin, Quinn managed to embarrass her just enough she is trying desperately to hide her face behind her hair that's falling around her from her shoulders. She is being so silly, and Quinn really has an urge to poke her puffy burning cheeks, but she holds back, afraid to ruin this newfound peace between them.

"Then I guess I should drink my tea before it gets cold."

Quinn clears her throat, and leaves Santana alone, in both senses, by turning away and sliding on a stool to sit at the kitchen island that is covered with plates and bowls of her favorite foods. She drops a biscuit into her mouth, and hums at the chocolate specks melting on her tongue.

"You know, I'm not really sure if you want me to die from eating too much or -"

Santana shoots her a hard glare, before turning back to the eggs and bacon she is making.

"That's not funny"

Quinn swallows, because it's really not.

It's too soon to make such a joke, but the memory of what happened earlier today has faded so much into the back of her mind, she feels like it didn't happen at all. But Santana's disapproving look reminded her just now that it did, and Santana was there too.

"You're right, sorry" She apologizes quietly.

Santana turns around, pan in her hand and shoots her a forgiving half-smile, before sliding the eggs and bacon on the white plate in front of her. Quinn grabs her knife and fork, cuts a bite and brings it into her mouth. It tastes amazing, and Santana stares at her chewing happily for seconds, before she puts the empty pan back onto the stove.

"So the reason is…I was thinking maybe we could invite the boys to come over, you know" She shrugs her shoulders, before turning back to Quinn and sliding on a stool beside her.

Quinn almost chokes on the food at her words, her eyes watering, but she forces herself to gulp.

She glances at Santana, whose eyebrows are nearing her hairline.

It's rather comical, except it's not, and she averts her eyes while clearing her throat that feels awfully dry.

"The boys, um, I don't think that's…" She trails off, not really sure if the word 'appropriate' would do justice to her thoughts. She drops her knife, and fork, and exhales loudly while looking at Santana again. "San"

"What?" Santana frowns at her behind her glasses.

She really wants to tell her, but it's so hard, it's hard to say this all out loud because it would make it feel even more real. The soreness between her legs, the hollowness in her chest, they are here but it's really hard to acknowledge them.

"I…" She chokes out, and shakes her head.

Santana slides closer, leaning forward on her elbows.

"What is it?" She whispers, feeling the weight of the moment.

"I slept with Noah" Quinn says, and she is surprised how easily it slips from her tongue.

It wasn't that hard of an admission after all.

She still feels bad, horrible to be honest, but…she is so relieved now that she told somebody, now that she told her best friend.

"What? You, you…and Noah" Santana jerks back into her seat, eyes wide in shock, then a few second later, she tilts her head to the side in thought and gasps with what seems like realization. "Oh, the cigarettes...I knew there was…How- I mean why?" She asks, the frown still intact on her forehead.

She seems equally grossed out and worried for her mental health.

For Quinn, it's hard to admit to herself, but Santana has good reasons to be both of these.

Though she doesn't really remember how it exactly went down, just bits and glimpses, a grimace crawls onto her mouth when she thinks about sleeping with Noah Puckerman, again. It's gross, and it still makes her stomach churn, but she knows why she did it.

"I guess I felt alone, and he was _there_." She explains, and Santana's face softens. "At the party, I ran off and he followed me. He just wanted to escort me home, but um I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts, so he came up and we drank vodka. A lot of vodka. And I just...I didn't want to feel alone, and _he_ was there."

"I swear to God I'll beat" Santana spats, shaking her head with scornfully and her hands turn into fists, and Quinn has to touch one to make her look at her again.

"It was not his fault" She defends Noah, because it would be unfair to pretend he played upon her advances.

It was really her who played upon him.

"He could have stopped you, he should have just said no" Santana nicks her hands and crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking all stubborn and unforgiving with her chin held high.

Quinn sighs, because handling a protective best friend is sometimes the hardest thing in the world.

"I think he felt the same way…and he just…I don't blame him. It was a mistake we made together"

She admits quietly, with a little shrug.

Santana shakes her head, her expression screwed up, but she drops her hands after a few seconds, and something weird and unsettling appears in her eyes.

"I hate to ask this Quinn, but did you…did you use -"

Quinn's heart sinks, and she stops her before she can finish the question.

"We were safe" She says lowly.

"Okay, okay" Santana nods subtly, then with a deep sigh, she whispers. "I'm sorry for everything…me and Brittany, if we hadn't done that to you, then you wouldn't have ran off and _everything_ would be different now"

She turns her eyes away, emphasizing the word 'everything" and stares into nothing, like a movie only she can see is playing in front of her eyes. And Quinn knows _everything_ is not just what happened to her, what happened between her and Noah, it is more than that.

"Why do I get the sense that you're not just talking about me and Noah right now?"

"I am?!" Santana snaps her eyes back, narrowing them, but she ducks her chin subtly under her scrutinizing gaze a second later, and Quinn just knows.

She knows now something must have happened, again, last night.

Of course she's been suspicious before, way before last night.

The exhaustion she noticed on Santana, the awkwardness between her and Brittany, all the obvious signs were there in front of her eyes, but she wasn't completely sure.

But now she is.

"You're not, and I know it, Santana. I know there is something going on between you and Britt, and I'm sorry to say this, but…you owe me an explanation." She looks at Santana apologetically, but determined to get an honest answer, at last.

Santana gives up without putting up a fight, and Quinn is relieved.

She really doesn't want to fight her anymore.

"Something going on, huh? I guess, not anymore." Santana mutters, eyebrows knitted together in pain. "I pretty much ended whatever it was last night"

She rests her forehead on her palm, and mumbles some words Quinn can't quite make out.

"You've been sleeping together?" Quinn asks, and Santana snaps her eyes at her, looking stunned that her question is so straightforward.

She glances away while offering a stiff nod.

"For three weeks and I tried to stop it, I really did, but I just…" She shrugs, dejectedly and Quinn's heart really aches for her. "She is so…she is just doing something to me, and I couldn't say no" She sounds all apologetic, and guilty, and Quinn somehow feels she shouldn't be the one sitting here with her and having this conversation.

It should be Brittany.

Still, she is really glad Santana is finally opening up, and she tries to take advantage of it while it lasts.

"But what happened?" She asks carefully.

Santana gives her a look, one that conveys how bad it actually was.

"I just…hurt her, again. I was a complete ass, and I just ruined everything." She mutters lowly, and takes her glasses off to pinch the bridge of her nose, while exhaling slowly. She puts her glasses back and shakes her head again, and it's really painful to see her struggle so badly. "But this time, I think she really gave up, you know." She whispers finally, and opens her eyes to look at Quinn with those melting chocolate eyes, and Quinn can't hold back from putting a hand on her forearm.

"Then talk to her" She says, while giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"What would be the point?" Santana huffs, but she doesn't shrug her hand off to Quinn's great relief. "I mean, maybe this is all for the better. I think it would just be easier for her to move on if she thinks I just used her for sex."

Santana tries to reason, but it sounds all wrong to Quinn's ears.

Quinn pulls her hand back, because she is about to cross an invisible line and tries to give Santana a little space by not maintaining their physical connection. She is trying to muster up her courage to ask her, but still, she is awfully nervous and her voice cracks pathetically when she finally does.

"But it wasn't just that, was it?"

Santana stares at her, for what feels like forever and she is preparing for every possibility, every possible reaction she has to face. But she doesn't really prepare to what she gets.

"I'm not sure what it is." Santana blurts out finally, frowning and Quinn's heart swells because she is finally letting her in, and it's the most amazing feelings. "Sometimes I think it's just purely physical, and we are like, addicted to each other in a way, but then last night…she just…she was acting like…" Santana trails off, unable to express what she is thinking, but it doesn't take much to find out. "Ugh, I completely freaked out on her. I wouldn't know what to say to her now…"

"Maybe saying that you're sorry would be a good start."

Quinn offers, and Santana nods up and down, deliberating her idea.

"But she would ask question…she always ask these damn questions that catch me off guard, and I'm afraid I will just slip up and then it would be all over, because she knew." She says in a huff, her eyes flickering between hers, full of shrill terror.

But Quinn is sure it wouldn't be all over.

Or at least, she is almost sure and she has to stand up now and just say it out loud, so maybe she will be able to convince Santana.

"She would understand -"

"She would never look at me the same way" Santana cuts her off, her expression hardening, and Quinn knows it's a bad idea to dwell into an argument now that Santana seems to trust her more than ever, but she has to try.

And she has to try really smart.

"She is not a special snowflake you know, she told me things, things about her past and she's just like us." She reasons, and hopes Santana won't act all defensive and ask what she knows about Brittany, because it really wouldn't be her place to tell her.

But Santana doesn't ask, she just shakes her head stubbornly.

"She is not like us, Quinn. We are the fucked up foursome." She says with a wry chuckle, and Quinn's heart drops. "She is…she is different, and she is not meant to be with a person like me. Even if she somehow understood, we couldn't be together…no while I..." Santana trails off, and Quinn knows exactly what she is referring to, and it breaks her heart like any other time that Santana has to make _such_ a sacrifice to work at USC. "Anyway, I think she'll move on just fine. It's for the better, really."

She shrugs, and Quinn doesn't know if she wants to shake her or hug her more. She knows her attempts are getting more and more desperate, but she just can't give up.

"But what if you just -"

"Your tea is getting cold, Quinn" Santana cuts her off, and glances at her cup, and Quinn is so stunned she doesn't know whether to cry or laugh at the ridiculousness, but it's really not her choice.

Her stomach quivers and she has to push her hand to her mouth because giggles are threatening to break out of her but it has no use, they erupt between her lips all harsh and loud, and they feel amazing.

It feels amazing to just laugh with so much force she is tearing up and her muscles are aching, and she has to take deep breaths to stop so she can speak.

"Oh my God…for real, Santana? Your tea is getting cold?" She shakes her head, grinning.

Santana is blushing like crazy, though it doesn't show on her skin, Quinn can just see she is, and it's not long she lets out a few giggles herself.

"Jesus, it does sound really pathetic right?" She asks, grinning back at her.

Their laughter dies down though, and they settle into silence for a bit that lets Quinn think through everything Santana told her.

"Yeah…" She whispers lowly, but they don't laugh at it anymore. Santana looks at her nervously, but Quinn is not about to try convincing her anymore. She's done enough for now. "Santana, I really don't want to push you, I have no right to tell you what to do. But I really think an apology wouldn't hurt, at least she would know you feel bad about what you did. It doesn't have to be more than that"

"Ugh, I hate this part so much." Santana mumbles, burying her head into her hands.

Quinn lets her feel sorry for herself for a few seconds.

"It's really not that hard." She says at last, but then Santana gives her a look that conveys well, it's that hard for her and Quinn think it's fair enough.

"I'm not even sure she would want to talk to me…maybe it's too soon. Maybe I'll screw up again, and then she'll hate me even more." Santana mumbles, fumbling with her hands.

She is really trying to come up with every excuse to just not talk to Brittany.

"You are being silly." Quinn points out, and it earns her a glare.

"And you're not helping right now"

Santana shoots her an ironic smile, then drops her chin to rest on her palm again. She is like a sad, helpless puppy right now, and Quinn actually feels she is reading a classic Shakespearean drama looking at her best friend's pathetic struggles right now.

"Look, I told you what I think…you just think about it, okay?" She puts an end to the conversation, before trailing her eyes all over the delicious food that is still untouched in front of her. "Now we should really eat, because I haven't craved food so much since I was pregnant." She smiles, and her own words don't even register in her mind, before she catches Santana staring at her with shocked eyes. "What?"

Quinn asks sharply, then swallows hard, because she really just made a reference to her pregnancy, and she can't even remember the last time she's done that.

She hasn't done that in forever.

And Santana knows she's just realized that, and her expression melts completely.

"Nothing."

Santana whispers, but they both know it was not nothing.

All that happened here between them in this kitchen, it was something.

It was really _something_.

Something Quinn doesn't even find words to describe how much she's been missing from her life.

/

She's sitting at her vanity, and applying blush to her cheeks when Santana knocks.

She smiles, because learning from the accident earlier today, Santana does wait for an answer this time.

"Come in!" She calls loud, then picks up her lipstick.

Santana appears, and Quinn has to take a second look at her reflection in the mirror, because she is all dolled up now, wearing a tight black dress and hair all glossy, make-up flawless on her gorgeous face.

"Um, should I ask or I better not?" She asks carefully, hoping that the hours Santana spent alone in her room were actually passed with thinking and she finally decided to take her advice.

Santana ducks her head, and fumbles with her hands in front of her dress.

"I tried calling her, but she didn't pick it up, so I was thinking…I should just go there, you know" She glances at her nervously, eyes wide with fears and doubts.

Quinn finishes her own make-up and takes in her appearance with satisfaction, before turning in her chair to face Santana. It's just one more attribution she shares with the best friend. She has to look immaculate when she is facing the hardest challenges of her life. It feeds her pride, and gives her confidence to be brave, and Santana works the same way.

So that's why they're both wearing fancy dresses and perfect make-up on a Saturday afternoon, instead of dorky shirts and messy buns on top of their heads.

"Now you're overthinking it." Quinn sighs, and gives Santana a pointed look. "You simply apologize, then just try to somehow handle what comes after"

Santana shakes her head, dropping her eyes to stare at the tips of her red pumps.

"Fuck, this is all wrong. Maybe I should just go out and -"

"And what?" Quinn asks exasperatedly, taking a step closer. "Get drunk? Sleep with someone? I did that and see where that brought me…"

She trails off, because there is really no need to recall the events of the morning, and Santana looks at her with regret.

"Okay, just forget it" She mumbles.

"Look, the longer you think about it, the harder it will be. So just go already" Quinn motions towards the door, hurrying her, but before she can turn away to pick up her clutch, Santana clears her throat awkwardly.

"I was on my way actually…but then…um, Noah called" She says carefully, almost like a question.

It takes Quinn aback, not really that he called, she knew he would, but so soon, she is rather surprised.

"Oh…and what did he want?"

"He wanted to talk to you, but I told him you're sleeping in case you know…whatever, so I told him you'll call him back when you wake up." Santana explains with a shrug, like it is no big deal, but it kind of is.

"Thanks" She shoots her a soft smile, before motioning towards her own appearance. "But as you see, I'm skipping that part. I'm going over to talk to him."

"I'm not sure I approve of this idea" Santana crosses her hands in front of her, and raises an eyebrow and Quinn feels like a chastised child under her determined gaze.

"We will just talk, I promise. I need this, I really do" She says quietly, and Santana takes a step while letting out a deep sigh.

"Just don't do anything stupid, please" She whispers, eyes flickering with worry and hands dropping to her sides.

"I won't, and you won't either. We can do this" Quinn takes both her hands, and gives a reassuring squeeze.

It's not just for Santana, it's for both of them, and they are just standing there, staring at each other with clasped hands for seconds, before Santana sighs.

"Okay, we can do this"

And after all those 'I can't-s' and 'we can't-s', Quinn actually believes that this time, they really can.

/

"I'm sorry"

They say the exact same time, after minutes spent in numbing silence, sitting on Noah's couch with eyes focused everywhere apart from the other.

She can't help but smile inwardly.

All day, she felt like a leading character in one of those classic soap operas Santana secretly loves watching while lying dead on the couch from all the tacos she's filled up her stomach with, but she's never felt it so strongly.

"You go first" She says quietly, uncrossing her arms and motioning for Noah to continue.

"Quinn, I really am sorry." He stares into her eyes, expression full of guilt, and regret. "I'm sorry for not acting like a real man. 'Cause a real man would have stopped, you know, but I was a complete jerk. I shouldn't have gotten even more drunk, and let things get so far that I was unable to stop."

"Noah." She leans closer, tilting her head to the side, but Noah shakes his head.

"No, let me finish." He asks with dark eyes begging her, and her heart swells that he is making such a tremendous effort. "Look, you are…you are a gorgeous woman, one only a few men are lucky enough to get once in their lives…and I was one of those men once, but now we are friends. With our past, we are more than friends, and I should have stopped, and done the right thing."

"You are not the only one asking for forgiveness here." Quinn says pleadingly, because she really needs him to stop blaming himself for a second, so she could just tell him.

"You don't have to" Noah shoots her down, stubbornly.

"I do, Noah…I do." Quinn whispers, and she reaches out to rest her palm on the back of his hand. "I shouldn't have asked you to come over, because back then, I already knew how this could turn out. Then we got drunk, and I was there and you were there, and there was this unfinished thing between us…and I just didn't want to feel so lonely. I didn't want to be the _only one_ feeling bad anymore…"

She trails off, and she brings her hand back to her lap, because she knows she is close to tearing up, and she has to clasp her hands together to keep herself from breaking down completely.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean" Noah frowns at her, and she lets out a shaky sigh.

"I wanted _you_ to feel bad, too"

She whispers, and the seconds silence following her words is unbearable.

"Are you saying that…are you saying that this was your revenge?" Noah asks at last, his voice full of emotions she can't quite place in her unsettled state.

"I'm so sorry" She chokes out, before the first tears slide down her cheeks, and she wipes them away quickly, trying her hardest to stand his gaze.

"Wow, I mean…" Noah shakes his head with wide eyes, then turns back to her with a thoughtful expression. "I really had that coming, didn't I?" He asks lowly, but more so from himself than her.

He is completely catching her off guard with this strange reaction, and now he is even offering her a tissue. This is so far away from what she was prepared for.

She wipes her tears off, trying to save her make-up as much as she can and sniffs for a couple of times.

"It was so stupid." She whispers.

"Nah" Noah shakes his head and slides closer until their knees almost touch. Quinn curls into herself, regret forcing her muscles to stiffen from his closeness. "I have to tell you, I felt really bad when I woke up and realized what we did, but I think I deserved it…after all those thing I've said to you."

"But still -" She tries to argue, but it has no point.

"No, Quinn, no buts" He cuts her off firmly, and sighs before taking her hand. It's been so long since a real man held her hand like that and she feels bad that a part of her is wishing it wasn't him. "All this time, we haven't been able to move on. We blamed each other, and we said mean words, and hurt each other pretty badly and now we are even. Now we can put everything behind our backs and just move on."

She can't quite believe what she is hearing.

He is offering her a clean slate, and it's everything the she could possibly want from him after all they've done to each other. It's everything and more.

"Is this really what you want?" She whispers, shyly.

"Yeah" He squeezes her hand gently, and she doesn't know how she could forget Noah Puckerman is a man who is not afraid to show gentleness. "What do you think?"

He looks at her, completely open and hopeful, and it's enough of reassurance for her to know that they can do this.

"I think that I love you" She blurts out, heart swelling with joy and he chuckles.

"I love you, too"

Then a second later, she is pulled into a tight hug, and Noah's hands settle on her back and she's never thought she would enjoy his touch so much after last night, but she does.

His strong arms don't loosen around her for long seconds, and she is enjoying every one of them.

They can start with a clean slate, and she couldn't be more grateful for him to make her believe clean slates do exist in life after all.

/

"So Michael, huh?"

He wiggles his eyebrows, before turning back to the pizza he is cutting into slices.

They are preparing to eat before going out, since he somehow manipulated her into going out for a birthday drink. She told him they really shouldn't drink more alcohol this weekend, but he assured her it would be just one, then he would force her in a cab, even if she begged him to take her. She couldn't really say anything to that, just rolled her eyes, but she gave in at last.

Now they are standing in his kitchen, and she has no idea why, but she is sharing details of her love life with him. Or more so about the love life she is so profoundly longing to have.

"Yeah" She nods, and takes a slice when he is finished.

He is already filling his mouth up and chewing loudly, when she has a chance to take the first bite.

"He seems great." He says, before taking another enormous bite. He is such a baby sometimes, eating like someone would steal his food, if he is not fast enough. "I mean, I don't really know him, but he is a family man. He is an in-valid but"

She can't believe he has the nerve to come up with that. He is not a baby, he is a complete jerk.

"How can you say that?" She stops eating and glares at him.

"What?" He stares at her with wide eyes, before realization dawns on him. "Oh, Lopez is different. She is…she is like us." He waves her off, and takes another bite.

"They are both in-valids, what's you point?" She drops her slice to the plate, annoyed and impatient to have a coherent answer.

"Lopez is different, because she is living like a valid. But Michael, he is out. Just imagine how hard it would be, your life would be hell"

He reasons with a shrug, like he is just telling her the sky is blue and the grass is green, and she really wants to just punch him in the face.

"Well, thanks for the encouragement." She says with her best sarcastic tone, and wipes her hands with a napkin.

"I'm sorry, but someone's gotta tell you for real." He drops his own slice, and looks at her apologetically. "All I'm saying is that it would be freakin' hard, and you just really have to see if he is worth it." He shakes his head, like he is trying to explain the simplest thing.

But this whole thing, it couldn't be more complex.

"I really think he is…" Quinn whispers, before a sigh is leaving her lips. "But I think he is…I'm afraid there is a part of him that is thinking the same way as you are and his answer is no."

"Like he thinks you're not worth the effort?" Noah asks carefully.

"Yeah"

"That's stupid!" He brushes off her assumption.

She feels weak to admit this, and she has to really focus to actually let out sounds when she decides to share her true feelings.

"It's not. I'm not sure myself, you know…"

"Quinn" Noah tries to take her hand, but she shoves it away and stares at him firmly.

"He's been raised differently. He's been with the same woman all his life and that woman gave up her life for their son. And what did _I_ do? I gave up our daughter." She is tearing up, and her voice cracks when she whispers the words. "He could never love a person like me"

"He could, maybe he does already. So be brave and tell him what you feel" Noah asks her pleadingly, and her lips quiver when she lets out a breath.

"It's just so hard…."

"I know. That's why I could have never done that. But see, you have a chance here Quinn, the person you want is not taken." He says, with a hint of bitterness lacing into his voice and she doesn't know how painful it could be to encourage someone to tell what they feel when he can't do the same.

Rachel is taken, and she doesn't blame him for using this excuse not to tell her what he feels.

But the person _she_ wants, Michael, he is not and she owes the man that much.

For all the nice words, the lighthearted laughter, the gentleness, the care, she owes Michael that much.

"I'm telling him" She says, with determination and Noah smiles proudly. "Just not tonight. I don't want a heart break as a birthday gift, so not tonight."

He sighs, but he doesn't say anything before grabbing his pizza again and starting to munch.

But Quinn doesn't really see how the tomato sauce is sliding down to his chin and she doesn't hear his loud chewing, she doesn't grasp any of that.

Because all she can think about is that she is telling him.

She is telling Michael Chang that she is in love with him.

/

"Happy birthday!"

They all shout loudly when she steps into the bar.

They are _all_ there, everybody that counts and joy is shining from their faces, and she is tearing up for God knows which time today.

Michael is there too, with little Mike, so they are all there, everybody that owns a place in her heart.

"Oh my God" She chokes out, hiding behind her palms and trails her eyes over them, in complete disbelief. "How, I mean…how?"

She shakes her head at Noah, and he just shrugs smugly, really pleased with himself that he managed to convince her to go out so they could prepare such a lovely little party for her.

He pulls her in for a hug, and kisses her cheek.

"Because you deserve this. Happy birthday to you, Quinn" He whispers into her ear, and then leans away from her and repeats it louder, kind of singing the words.

The others join in, and they are all singing to her and touching her heart.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, dear Quinn, Happy Birthday to you!"

Everybody is clasping and then Santana has to wipe a tear off with her thumb, before hugging her tightly.

"Happy Birthday, Quinn" She breathes into her ear, resting her chin on her shoulder. "And thank you…for everything" She whispers, and gives Quinn a squeeze before pulling away a little.

Quinn doesn't let her get that far though.

"Thank _you_" She whispers, looking into her chocolate brown eyes and melting under her gaze.

Santana shoots her a tight lipped smile, and Quinn chuckles, because her best friend is the most adorable and awkward person in the world, but her smile quickly turns into a bashful grin.

It reaches her eyes, and Quinn lets out a relieved sigh, because Santana Lopez's smile doesn't reach her eyes when she is sad.

Santana seems to somehow get what she is thinking about and gives her a subtle nod, and it's all the reassurance that she needs.

She lets go of her, but it's not long before she is embraced by another friend.

Brittany it is, and hugging her feels also amazing, but kind of different.

Brittany is not one to hold back, not like Santana. When she hugs someone, she is giving her all and she squeezes her like this is the last time before they part ways and never meet again. She's hugged her for a few times so far, but it's never been quite so desperate, so desperate to convey something that Quinn can't quite place just yet, not without talking to her. Brittany is the most touchy-feely person she knows, and even though she is amazing with words, she prefers touching as far as she's experienced.

"I know we've only known each other for a month, but I really like you Quinn. I'm really happy to be here" Brittany says, not caring who might hear, not like Santana. "Happy birthday to you"

She gives Quinn a final squeeze, raising her into the air a few inches and Quinn squeals in her arms.

"Thanks, Britt" She says when her feet touch the floor again.

Brittany shoots her the widest smile she's ever seen, then another blonde appears in front of her.

"Happy Birthday beautiful" Sam smiles softly, and she takes his cheeks in her hands, and kisses both.

"Thank you, Sammy" She whispers, before they hug tightly and he strokes her hair for a few seconds.

She is afraid to let go, breathing in his sweet smell to soothe her mind.

He does let go, and gives her hands a reassuring squeeze before stepping to the side, giving space to him, the one and only person still waiting in line.

"Quinn" Michael is staring into her eyes, and she suddenly feels naked under his gaze.

Every time he is staring at her like this, his eyes boring into hers, he is staring right into her soul, breaking into deepest cavities, discovering all her secrets and it's terrifying because that's exactly where she is hiding the love she is feeling for him.

"Michael" She whispers, so quietly she is not sure he even heard it, until his lips curl into a soft smile.

"It's an honor that you consider me a friend." He gives her a grateful nod, but the smile she forces on her lips is a consequence of her hardest effort, because what she really considers him is not a friend, it's the only true love of her life. "And I thought, well…" He chuckles and looks at Mike Jr. who is hiding behind his leg, and strokes the boy's black hair. "Well, me and my son here, we thought that we should make you a gift that conveys how lucky we feel to have you in our lives."

Quinn's heart explodes from all the love she is feeling, and she is completely lost when little Mike pokes his head out from behind his father's leg and holds out a beautifully wrapped box for her in his tiny hands.

"Happy birthday, Quinn"

He mumbles, shyly and he is staring into her eyes, and she just knows she'd be able to love this perfect boy as her own, if Michael would let her.

If he would want her.

If he would want her love, for himself and his son.

She crouches in front of him and takes the box, and she is not sure for a second if she should just say thanks and unwrap it, or hug the little boy like every other people up until now.

She doesn't have to be sure, she doesn't have to be anything, because tiny hands wrap around her neck and the softest cheek is touching hers, and he breathes into her hair with the softest sound, and she's never felt this way before, except when she hugged _her_ baby for the first time. It feels exactly like that first time, and she can't hold back the tears swelling in her eyes.

"Thank you" She whispers, voice cracking and he pulls away, and she dies when he gives her a wet kiss on her cheek.

He giggles, and she feels a warm tear sliding down on her cheek, but she doesn't even care to wipe it off this time.

But Michael cares, when she stands up to face him again.

"Happy birthday to you, Quinn" He whispers, taking a step closer.

Nobody's ever looked at her quite the same way as he is looking at her now, and she prays to God it's not just her imagination playing with her mind.

She prays to God this is not just a dream, when he pulls her into the most perfect hug, and her breath hitches when he nuzzles into her hair, because no dream would make her feel this way.

No dream could make a person feel this way.

She feels his heart beating against hers, and it's matching hers, and he is holding his breath just like her, listening to their hearts beating in sync, just like her, and that's how she just _feels_ it.

And when she opens the present, long seconds later, and it's a sculpture carved from Chinese rose tree wood, shaping two swans facing each other and their heads are touching like they are sharing a kiss, and he looks at him like he is wishing they are doing the same with his whole heart, it's just then that she _knows_ it for sure.

She loves Michael Chang,

and he loves her back.

* * *

**_Tell me what you think, what you feel, and everything!_**

**_Next chapter, we're back to Santana's narrative, and don't worry, the chapter will most definitely include her confrontation with Brittany. _**


	9. Part 8a

**I split this chapter into two halves, but they belong together, so I publish them as 8a and 8b. I've already written a huge part of 8b, so you can expect another upload a few days later.**

**Read and review! **

**Your feedback is really important for me. Thank you!**

**emmanuelle-s. tumblr. com**

* * *

**Part 8 a **

There is really no way to describe it.

And it's been the hundredth time since they met.

Those damn feelings, again.

Her heart is still beating like a hammer and she's been sitting in the car motionless for ten minutes, so one would think she's really had enough time to calm down and get her act together by now.

But she hasn't.

Because no time would be enough to prepare to look into those damn blue eyes of Brittany S. Pierce after she made her cry again. For the hundredth time she imagines, since they met barely a month ago.

Her hands are still intact on the wheel, because she needs something to hold onto. Unfortunately, the tight grip doesn't make her get a grip on her nerves too.

It's the damn nerves.

There are so many possibilities, and she doesn't quite feel prepared enough for any of them. What ifs are making rounds in her head, messing up even the things she was sure were rock solid in her mind. Apparently, when it comes to this woman, nothing is rock solid. Everything can screw up anytime. And that's what she just hates about this, the damn feelings.

She just can't trust herself anymore.

And it's really hard to get used to it, because for a long time, the one and only person Santana Lopez could have trusted was herself.

/

Another five minutes, and she's let go of the wheel.

She can't do anything with her hands, and that's a reoccurring problem for her since Brittany showed up in her life, but it is okay for now, because she can smooth the creases of her dress or tap her fingers on her thighs. When she'll be standing in her doorway though, she knows the only thing she will be able to do with them is clench them together and hope for the best.

She checks herself in the mirror.

She looks perfect, that's just something she has to do in these types of situations. She looks strong, red lipstick and fake lashes, she oozes power one would say, but she feels like a fucking new-born puppy inside. The only difference is that she is not cute, she is pathetic. Quinn would say her eyes show everything and she hates that her best friend would be right.

Her eyes have always shown everything, and she can only hope Brittany can't see her.

She is not ready for that.

At least, not yet anyway.

/

She stops counting the minutes on the digital clock of the panel, and just stares out of the window. Not the direction of the beautiful white house on her right of course. Instead, she starts staring at a perfectly trimmed bush on the other side, and she is contemplating to just fucking give up and drive off before anyone can notice she's been here this Saturday afternoon. She is questioning Quinn's advice, hell she's questioning everything she's been quite sure were the right words to say, the right things to do and now it's just her, and the perfectly trimmed bush that's just being shielded by a black car parking on the other side of the street.

She snaps out of her thoughts, and focuses her eyes.

There is nothing unusual about the car, but the way it's just parking there and nobody's coming out unsettles her for a no reason. It's just damn creepy, because who in their right mind parks their car on the street and just sits there.

"Jesus Christ" She mutters, before burying her face into her hands. "You idiot"

She shakes her head, because she is one of those people now.

One of those pathetic people.

She releases a shaky breath, and drops her hands. The black car is still there on the other side, and she mutters another "Fuck" before unlocking the car, because hell, Santana Lopez won't be one of those losers anymore.

It doesn't make the walk to Brittany's door much easier though.

Every step feels like weight is added on her shoulders, and she is just not sure one person can carry so much at once.

She is not sure she wants to.

So she is here to shake some off.

/

"Oh" Brittany's eyes bug out of her head the second she opens the door, and notices who's there.

But Santana is pretty sure her eyes are way wider, because the only thing the blonde woman in front of her is wearing is a wet white towel around her body.

She gulps, and tries to avert her eyes.

She doesn't want to be disrespectful, but it's pretty hard to take her eyes off of the Brittany's body. But it means trouble if she starts staring and she already feels 'trouble' growing between her legs. She hates how easy she is, it's embarrassing.

"Uh, I didn't mean to intrude" She mutters, focusing really hard on the doorknob.

The frantic beating of her heart is the only sound she can hear for seconds, and she knows she has to look at her shortly, because her eyes are burning from the effort of not being attached to the pale skin of Brittany S. Pierce.

"It's okay." Brittany clears her throat, and she dares a glance at her. She is not looking at her either, instead she is focusing really hard on her red pumps. She wonders why that is. "I just wasn't expecting…anyone"

She says after a second of pause, and Santana's heart sinks a little because she knows Brittany means she wasn't expecting _her_ to show up.

"I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me, 'cause you haven't picked up my calls." Santana says awkwardly, trying her best to leave the hurt out of her voice.

Their eyes meet, finally and it's just way worse than she thought.

Those damn blue eyes are clouded by the emotions Brittany so openly displays for anyone to see, and Santana is still not sure she can ever handle it, this kind of sincerity.

"I was uh…busy, and I just always lose my phone somewhere." Brittany mutters lowly, and it's embarrassment that creeps into her usually smooth tone, and Santana frowns at her.

Busy…that's just the worst word Brittany could've come up with, because from now on she won't stop wondering what she'd been doing before taking a shower in the middle of the day. It doesn't take the logic of a genius to say people take showers in the middle of the day after engaging in physical activities, and there really are endless possibilities in that category, but she can't stop her mind from picking one out and mulling over it.

It just couldn't be possible, or could it?

Could Brittany have found another person, so quickly, Santana wonders and she just damn well knows the answer.

Of course she could have.

People would be lining up in front of her house if she told them she was interested. Who wouldn't want to have a piece of this woman? She just hates to think about someone taking advantage of the emotional state she left Brittany last night. And she just hates to think about Brittany using someone to forget her.

But, she is pretty sure she would deserve it.

So she just releases the breath she's been holding for seconds and clenches her hands together.

"I just came to talk" She says quietly, and Brittany tilts her head a little, and her eyes turn gentler.

She is just staring at Santana for a few seconds, and Santana is desperately trying to figure out what she is thinking so she can plan her next move, the next words that should come out of her mouth. Because she does need to plan everything not to screw up today.

"Yeah, I think it's time we do that, isn't it?" Brittany ducks her head a little, and she has no idea why she seems afraid all of a sudden.

She must be afraid of her.

And she has every reason to be, but this time Santana won't let her fears prove true.

She wills herself to do the right thing.

"It is" She nods, and tries to hide how hard it is for her to stand in Brittany's doorway and act like a strong person.

Brittany just happens to make her feel weak all the time.

Especially when she is staring into her eyes.

Her knees just want to buckle up and she feels like she is about to fall into her arms any second. She is not sure Brittany wants to catch her though, so she clenches her fists tighter and stands her stare, trying to stay strong, for both of their sakes.

This time, she hopes Brittany can see right into her and see she has nothing to be afraid of.

She won't do wrong this time.

She will do whatever Brittany wants, because she owes her that much…she will do anything, except one thing.

She will do anything, but she is not ready to tell her secret.

At least, not yet anyway.

/

"Come in" Brittany says finally, opening the door wider and Santana shudders when she steps into the house, only inches separating their bodies.

Brittany smells like blossoming flowers of the spring, fresh and innocent, and so alive.

She's never been a fan of smells; in fact, there are smells that make her gag and feel like she is on the verge of fainting.

But smelling Brittany, Santana is on the verge of fainting for an entirely different reason.

She inhales deeply when inside the house, because to feel like Brittany's scent is wrapping her mind up in the fluffiest blanket makes it impossible to think clear, and she can't let it distract her now. She can't let anything distract her now.

That's why Santana just nods when Brittany tells her to make herself at home before excusing herself to the bathroom and that's why her eyes don't follow her almost naked body walking away.

When the door clicks in place, she raises her head and takes a look around.

She realizes this is the first time she's here in daylight.

The house has always been dimly lit, or completely dark and it feels like a distant and mysterious thing is unfolding in front of her eyes now.

It feels like she's been in Brittany's home the first time, and it offers endless possibilities to discover. A home can tell every tale of a person, she knows that, and looking around, trailing her eyes over the space, the furniture, the flowers, and the countless pictures, she feels she wants to know Brittany's tales.

She really does want to get to know her.

But it's a selfish wish, because she can't offer her the same in return.

She can't let her discover every one of her own tales, because there are dirty and dark, and she wants to hide them away forever.

But maybe time will make those tales fade away, and once in the future, she will be ready to face Brittany with the utter truth, even the most heart-aching of her tales. She will tell her once, she knows that by now. After she comes back, or years later, if she's still in her life, she will tell her everything, because in the bottom of her heart, she wants her to know.

For now, she shakes the weight of this promise off, and takes a few steps closer to the fireplace where framed photos of all shapes and sizes sit on the ledge. It forms a huge contrast with the rest of the house, where everything seems to fit today's standards, minimalistic and sleek in design. The frames are different colors and styles, and a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, because the whole set is so quirky and bright like the person that owns them seems to be.

She is not sure she has a right to look at the photos though, because in a way, it feels like invading Brittany's privacy. But now that she is so close, she can't hold herself back.

She feels she's never been closer to her when she notices a picture of Brittany in a white dress caught in the middle of dancing. Her feet are bare, and there is a white flower behind her ear, tucked into her blonde bun, and there is something on her face that makes Santana stare at the photo mesmerized.

It's the purest thing she's ever seen.

It's devotion.

It feels like Brittany's laying her heart on the dance floor, and she wishes she could see her dancing once. She wishes Brittany could still dance like she used to, a long time ago.

"That was my last performance…" Brittany says quietly, and Santana jolts awake from her day-dreaming, turning her head to look at her. "…before the accident."

She shakes her head, because she'll always feel bitterness when she thinks about Brittany's accident.

It'll always remind her of how unfair life is.

Everything can be ruined, every person can be screwed up by this miserable thing called life and even such a pure thing like Brittany can be ruined forever.

"I'm sorry" Santana mutters, and sets her eyes on the floor, because she feels wrong to look at Brittany, either the picture or the flesh-and-blood living and breathing person in front of her.

She hears her stepping closer, and Brittany's bare toes appear in front of her. She raises her head carefully, taking her in inch by inch, her worn jeans, and the loose plaid shirt, and that pale skin that makes her throat dry, until her eyes settle on her face.

Not a hint of regret appears on Brittany's expression.

"There is nothing to be sorry for." She smiles softly, and Santana wonders how this woman seems to just take all the shit life is throwing in her way with such grace and acceptance. "You know, I'll always remember that day. It was the best I've danced all my life, it was perfect, but I've felt like something inside of me was ending, and I couldn't quite put a finger on that feeling…until the accident."

"Yeah?" Santana whispers, every fiber in her body devoted to Brittany's confession.

"My fate changed, and I think I felt the moment coming." Brittany shakes her head slightly, deep in thought. "I believe people feel these moments, when just something is about to happen that will make their lives change forever."

"You believe in fate?"

"Of course I do." Brittany says with complete conviction and Santana is listening to every word closely, trying to follow her line of thought. "Possibilities arise in front of you through your whole life…but I think it's you who has to choose your path, and there is always just one path you can truly choose, because that one path is your fate. So I think your fate is inside you, you know. Your fate is what you choose to do, but it is fate that makes you choose, you know, it's the thing inside you what I call fate. So it's all a circle"

She utters the words rushed, and it takes a second or two for Santana to catch up with the meaning that seems so clear and confusing at the same time. There must be something really right and wrong with Brittany's belief, and she just can't decide which way she feels, so just tries her hardest to figure out.

"So you think that…your fate is exactly what is happening to you? And one can never deny its fate?" Santana frowns, shaking her head because if that was true, she wouldn't be here now.

Her fate was to live as an in-valid, to have an in-valid job and marry an in-valid, and die as an in-valid. And she is doing everything she can not to live her own fate, and she swears to her life she'll be denying it and fighting it until her heart stops beating.

"Yeah" Brittany nods, and Santana just can't look at her anymore, because it hurts too much. "I think when you're growing up, you have a certain belief and that is guiding you to walk that path that you believe is your fate…until something happens, and you realize what you believed was your fate was nothing, and your true fate is what just happened to you." Santana's breath hitches at her words, and everything feels like it's crashing down on her. "And that's when I think you can truly live, without the burden of fate. Because you accept everything that happens in your life is just your fate coming true, the fate you were truly born with, that is rooted inside of you."

Everything she built up, all her beliefs, they come crashing down and she is just left there standing without a conscious thought about any of them.

Brittany is making her question everything.

And Santana is not sure she can handle that.

"Is that what happened to you, after your accident? So now you live your life and just accept everything that happens to you?" She asks slowly, because it's hard to form coherent questions when she is in the middle of questioning her perspective on life.

Brittany mulls over her words, for seconds, but there is certainty in her eyes when she opens her mouth again.

"Sometimes it's hard, but this is the only way I can live free."

Santana shakes her head, because this concept feels so foreign to the one she's familiar with.

"But I don't get it. You told me you wanted to be an astronaut, then the accident happened and your dream was crushed. So now you say it wasn't your fate to be an astronaut in the first place?"

Brittany's mouth forms a soft smile.

"My fate was to be here, can't you see?" She explains, and Santana swallows hard. "There was always a part of me that knew I might not end up here, if I continued to pursue that dream, but I thought my dream and my fate…they were the same thing, until the accident happened. After that, I lost myself, I lost my direction, and I didn't know who I am and what I was meant to do. It never truly stopped until Sam called about the job, and I just realized that this was my fate all along, to be here, in whatever way."

Her eyes widen, because it feels like she is just able to see for the first time and she wants to take in as much as she can. It's the scariest thing, because she is not sure which was true, the way she saw things before or the way Brittany makes her see now.

"So you said yes? You choose to say yes because your fate made you?" She asks slowly, trying to think like Brittany does.

It doesn't feel false on her tongue, the question. On the contrary, it makes sense in the strangest way but it doesn't make it easy to accept the truth of it.

"Yeah, I said yes, because there was no other answer for me. My fate was to say yes and be here, do you get it now?" Brittany asks, and Santana thinks she might do.

She might get it, but she's never been this unsure of herself in her life.

And Brittany seems to be so sure of her belief, like she's figured out everything in her life.

Santana envies her tremendously for that.

She wishes she could figure it all out like she did. But now that she is here, standing in front of her, she knows she has to ask the one thing that's been creeping up inside her for minutes now.

"And what about us? What is our fate?"

Brittany shakes her head, and she feels silly for asking, but she takes a step closer and takes Santana's hand gently.

Santana snaps her eyes to their clasped hands, and Brittany squeezes it tightly to make her look at her again.

"This…to be here, and have this conversation." Brittany shrugs a little, and smiles at Santana like she's perfectly content with this much knowledge. "I really don't know more than you do…the only thing I know is that we were meant to find each other somehow, and the things that happened between us, they were meant to happen so we can be here now, have this conversation and move on"

"Maybe they were meant to happen exactly this way, but it doesn't take away from the fact that I hurt you, Brittany" Santana argues, pulling her hand out of her grip and taking a step away.

"I never said it was okay that you hurt me." Brittany shakes her head, and follows her, not letting Santana distance herself. "I just accept you had a reason to do so…you had a reason why you pushed me away, while I wanted more, even though it really disappointed me. And I realized I wasn't fair to you either"

"Brittany, this is all my fault." Santana says, louder and harsher this time, her eyes flickering between Brittany's.

She is losing her patience, and it's a dangerous thing to do.

"No, that's not true…I tried to blame you for everything, I really did, because I was mad at you…but now I know I made a mistake of believing what I wanted was my fate again." Brittany explains, and Santana snaps her eyes away, because she just doesn't understand, and it makes her frustrated awfully. "But now I know it wasn't, and I'm happy that I realized that."

"I'm sorry but this is just -"

"Silly, huh?" Brittany cuts her off, before Santana can say something she regrets later. "Yeah, maybe…but it feels right, so"

"I didn't say it was silly" Santana shakes her head, but the apology in her tone makes it obvious that she almost said exactly that.

"But you think it is" Brittany says boldly, without accusation, and Santana shakes her head again.

She might have almost said it, but it's not what she truly thinks. She just doesn't know what she is thinking anymore. And she doesn't know how Brittany can so easily accept everything when she just can't, when she spent all her life fighting things, not accepting them the way they were.

"No, I just think you are…you're just nothing like anyone I've ever met before."

She shrugs, because there it is, the truth.

"I'm not sure that's a good or bad thing though" Brittany frowns, with a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

"It's amazing actually, but sometimes…it just freaks the shit out of me." Santana chuckles awkwardly, and Brittany's lips turn into a soft smile.

The tension evaporates, and they are just left there standing in the middle of the living room without either of them knowing how to go on now. All these words have been said, and it feels like a chapter is ending and they are not quite sure how to begin the next one.

Santana is not quite sure whether they are even meant to have a next one.

But Brittany just said so.

/

"You want to sit down?" Brittany motions towards the couch, after long seconds of silence settling around them.

"Yeah" She nods, because she really needs just a moment to think while sitting stable on her ass.

Brittany leads the way and sits down, leaving enough space for her and Santana does leave some distance between them, thinking it might make it easier to think straight if she doesn't feel Brittany's warmth on her skin.

Her hands settle in her lap, and she takes deep breaths, while replaying most of their conversation in her head, still not quite able to comprehend everything. She has time though, to think about everything later, but there is one thing she definitely needs to do to be able to move on with Brittany now.

She exhales slowly, one last time before looking at the woman beside her, who is waiting silently for her with all the encouragement she can offer in her blue eyes.

"Look, I just…there might be a lot of truth in what you said, and maybe things were meant to turn out this way but I still have to apologize for hurting you. So here it is, Britt, I really am sorry"

Santana feels a rock has rolled down from her shoulder, some of the weight she desperately wanted to shake off. And judging from Brittany's expression, her efforts to convince herself to come here were worth it.

"I forgive you" Brittany says without a second of contemplation. Her expression turn darker though, outright sad all of a sudden, and Santana fears the worst. "But…I need to tell you something, too." Brittany looks guilty and she wonders if her earlier suspicion might prove right after all. "When you left me, I was so confused that I…I just wanted to know why, you know, and I just had this stupid idea that I might find an answer at the sequence lab…" Brittany trails off, but Santana is sure she wouldn't hear the words she said even if she continued.

She wouldn't hear it, because her brain just stopped working, her senses are numb and she feels breathless, like she forgot how to even breathe.

Brittany went to the sequence lab to found out who she is, to make her worst fear come true.

She thought the worst case was Brittany sleeping with another person, but that is not even close to how she is feeling about this one.

"You know…who I am?" She chokes out, voice fragile and broken.

Brittany shakes her head, but the frown intact on her face makes Santana think she is just confused. She must be confused if she found out. She must need answers, explanation, and Santana damn well knows she would need to give her that if Brittany knew who she is. She would have to tell her what she did to get where she is now in her life, and she is not ready for that.

At least, not yet anyway.

So the only thing she can do is pray that moment hasn't arrived yet. One of those moments Brittany described that would change her life forever.

"No…because I realized that those results wouldn't give me the answer I'm searching for…I want to know who you are, but I want _you_ to show me. I don't want numbers and statistics, I just want to get to know you" Brittany says at last, and Santana feels like a baby that just arrived to the world and breathes for the first time.

"Oh my God" She whispers, burying her head in her sweating palms.

Brittany doesn't know.

She doesn't want to know.

She wants to know _her_, just her. And that's the second scariest thing she could possibly face now.

She just needs a moment to recall how to breathe, before she can get a hold of reality, and face Brittany and her wish again.

When she opens her eyes, Brittany is staring at her, tears brimming her eyes and Santana hates herself because Brittany doesn't get it. She doesn't get that what Santana is feeling is relief, utter relief. She is staring at her, full of regret and Santana doesn't know how to express that she is the one who has something to regret between them.

"I'm sorry, I had no reason to invade your privacy that way. Can you forgive me?" Brittany asks shakily, and Santana chuckles wryly, confusing the woman beside her even more.

"It was perfectly reasonable actually." She says bitterly, because there is a part of her that knows Brittany should have found out, and she hates that she is still fighting that part of herself with every effort she can muster up.

"No" Brittany argues, and leans forward to grab something from the table. "It was a silly thing to do…so, here are the results, they belong to you" She holds out an envelope, and Santana glances at her face, then back at the white envelope containing the truth about her, all the numbers and figures that proves she is not fated to have someone like Brittany.

She knows she is just not, that is her fate.

"I…I don't know what to say" She whispers, hands still clenched in her lap and not reaching for the envelope.

"Just say that you forgive me, please." Brittany pleads, while taking her left hand and placing the envelope into her palm. "All I know is that I felt like you didn't consider me worthy of having something with you, but I realized I never really showed you that _I am_. Please give me a chance that I can show you and let me get to know you"

She makes Santana's fingers wrap around the envelope and just smiles at her.

"I'm not perfect Brittany… I'm just a fucked-up person. That's who I really am." Santana spats, anger erupting from her but Brittany doesn't falter, and her hold only tightens around her hand.

"I don't think so. I think you are brilliant at what you do and you are an amazing friend."

"But I hurt you, a lot" Santana argues, and she feels like they are making the same round all over again, and though Brittany is trying, Santana is just not able to move on with her.

"Yes…I won't lie to you, you did hurt me, but that doesn't mean I don't want you in my life still. I just realized that it was silly of me to expect anything of you, it was silly to think that you and I might… turn into something, you know…something more in so little time." Brittany shrugs, and it's the hope in her eyes, the hope that they might turn into something more sometime in the future still that makes Santana crack.

"I'm sorry I can't give you what you want" She whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek onto her bottom lip.

She swallows it, and ducks her head, but Brittany cups her chin.

"You can, can't you see that now?" She shakes her head at her.

Like it's damn obvious, but it's anything but obvious for Santana.

"How?"

"I just want a clean slate." Brittany explains gently, her fingers stroking along her jaw. "I want us to start again, because I would like to get to know _you_ and just see what happens then. And if it turns out we are meant to be just friends, then I will be happy, because I want to have you in my life, in whatever way, and I'll know being your friend was my fate all along."

"So you just want to forget everything that happened?" Santana snaps her eyes to her face, with another set of tears threatening to escape.

"No, that would be impossible." Brittany smiles and taps her chin with her thumb, and she seems like she doesn't even want to forget everything. "But I thought a lot, and I realized it was selfish of me to make advances on you and make you feel bad for not returning my feelings, although I never actually talked about them."

"Your…your feelings?" Santana chokes out, eyes widening.

"My feelings, yeah." Brittany nods, and she uses both hands to wipe off Santana's tears, before she takes a deep breath. "So here it is, I do like you, like a lot, and I just wish you would let me get to know you a bit more. I just don't want you to think so much, 'cause I always see this expression on your face that you are restraining yourself, and I really don't like that. I just want to see the real you, whoever that person is behind these results and I wish you would give me a chance."

Santana blinks, once, twice and a couple of more times while staring at Brittany, and trying to grasp the meaning of her words.

She promised herself she would give her what she wanted today.

And Brittany wishes to get to know her.

She is not sure she can give her that, not entirely for sure, but she has to try, she owes her that much.

"So are you saying that you want us to be friends?" She sniffs, shaking her head. "To hang out and talk and whatever?"

She still can't quite believe this is what Brittany wishes from her.

"I'd really like that, yeah"

She can't accept it, not yet.

"I just can't seem to understand why you would want to get to know me. I mean, haven't you seen enough already? I treated you so-"

"I know you are afraid." Brittany cuts her off, and Santana frowns at her words.

"What?"

"I know you are, there is something in your eyes that you can't hide, you know." Brittany explains, and she snaps her eyes away, though it's obviously too late for that now. "But I don't want you to be afraid of me, I just hope in time you'll realize you can trust me. I just hope you'll see I'm worth it."

Brittany says gently, and sounds truly optimistic that it is a possibility for them, get to know each other and be friends. But it's really hard for Santana, to let someone in and see her.

And it's gonna be particularly hard with Brittany.

"It's really hard for me to trust people" She whispers, casting her gaze back at the beautiful woman beside her.

"There is nothing wrong with that." Brittany shrugs and it gives Santana hope that she might accept her the way she is. "I told you, I don't expect anything of you now, okay? If it turns out we can't be friends then I'll know it was foolish of me to think once that we could have been even more."

"Do you really think we can do this? I mean, this friends thing?" She asks, carefully, tasting the words on her lips for the first time.

"I think we can do anything" Brittany tells her in a breath, and Santana just believes for a second that they might.

"I'll try my best, Brittany, that's all I can promise." She shakes her head a little, but judging from how Brittany's blue eyes light up she couldn't have come up with a better thing to say.

"Thank you" Brittany whispers, and Santana doesn't even have time to come up with an answer because arms wrap around her back, and she is pulled into the tightest hug, Brittany's chest pressing into hers and her face burying into her neck, her nose finding the exact spot it touched last night in entirely different circumstances.

The touch makes her shudder, and she has to close her eyes to control herself.

Maybe it's just her lack of 'friendly experiences', but she is pretty sure friends don't hug each other like this. And all it takes is a peck of Brittany's lips on her bare shoulder to know that they are not gonna be just friends.

They're never gonna be just friends.

"But um, there is something else…" Brittany whispers, after she pulled back slightly, and the way she looks at Santana proves her assumption damn right.

"Yeah?" She asks lowly, her hands sitting awkwardly in her lap while Brittany's are still set firmly on her waist, thumbs stroking her sides.

"Uh, you know these past three weeks…you might have hurt me, but you also gave me so much pleasure. I just feel like we clicked right from the start and I just can't seem to forget that night…and all the other nights we spent together." Brittany explains, and Santana parts her lips, stunned by her sincerity yet again. "And the thing is…I still want you"

"You want me?" She asks back weakly, unsure of herself and the sudden shift of the mood.

She is not sure this is right again, thought it does feel like that.

At least, Brittany's breath does when she leans closer to her face and her fingers on her ribcage, they do feel nothing but right and so, so amazing.

"I want you, I do." Brittany whispers lowly and Santana's eyes drop to her pink lips, making her remember the last time she tasted them. But that last time is the one thing why she is not sure she can give in to her want now. "I just look at your lips and I want to kiss you. I want to have sex with you. Because the thing is…nobody's ever made me feel like quite the way you do, and I know I'm being awfully selfish here, but I don't really want to give upon that."

Santana gulps because there is just something so disturbing about the way Brittany is able to express the way she feels so openly and fearlessly, trusting Santana with her wish.

She has no idea whether it's selfish or not, because she does feel the same way, but she is afraid to act on these feelings. Knowing perfectly what the consequences could be.

She doesn't want to make the same mistake again.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea…what if it turns out badly? I don't want to hurt you again." She pleads with Brittany, to make her understand just how much she is afraid to do that again, willing to give upon this part of their relationship if it means she can somehow avoid hurting Brittany again.

"I know…but it would be completely different" Brittany shrugs, pulling away a little, her hands dropping from Santana's torso to her thighs.

It's even harder to think clearly, when Brittany's warm palm comes into contact with her bare thighs, fingers stroking her skin teasingly.

It's kind of cruel, the way she is manipulating her by touches, but she knows damn well Brittany is just proving it to her how much they actually want the same thing.

"How so?" Santana asks when she finds the way back from the physical pleasure blocking her brain to actually formulate words.

Brittany's mouth turns into a smirk, and she leans in to whisper into Santana's ear, her warm breath hitting her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I wouldn't want to have sex with you to make you feel something towards me. I wouldn't have any reason other than to have the best sex of my life." Brittany whispers, and Santana's breath hitches from her boldness.

"Brittany…I'm not sure this is the right thing to do" She chokes out, and snaps her eyes away from Brittany's face.

Brittany immediately pulls away and Santana is afraid she might have hurt her again, but much to her surprise, one hand on her thigh edges closer to the hem of her dress, and Brittany's other settle on her neck.

"Does this feel right?" Brittany asks lowly, and Santana barely has enough time to comprehend the question before Brittany kisses her neck and cups her breast through her dress.

"Uh"

She moans, and widens her legs when Brittany's fingers slide under her tight dress and touch her through her damp thong.

Her body gives the answer, and she has no right to lie.

"It does" She pants into Brittany's mouth and her fingers wrap around Brittany's wrist to encourage her to move before kissing her back with vigor.

She can feel Brittany smile against her lips, but it fades in a second and her tongue licks inside her mouth and Santana almost faints when Brittany pulls her thong to the side and two fingers push deep inside of her.

"Oh fuck" She grunts, and her hips buck up from the couch, desperate for more.

Brittany starts sliding in and out of her, and Santana moves into her hand, her hands fisting her shoulders for leverage. Her jaw clenches, and she lets out a whimper when Brittany pushes a third fingers inside her, and her eyes roll back into her head when she sucks her earlobe in.

"Oh Britt" Santana groans, and before she can utter the thing she wishes now, Brittany reaches for the zipper of her dress, and a second later, she is squeezing her naked breast gently while her fingers crook inside her. "Oh God fuck me"

She is rendered to a whimpering mess when Brittany finally leans down to wrap her mouth around her nipple, sucking on it and swirling her tongue just the way she loves it, and her jaw clenches when Brittany starts hitting her deeper than before, pulling out and pushing back hard, filling her perfectly until her heart starts beating like a hammer and she is sweating from the effort of backing up her moves, and something is blubbering up from the pit of her stomach, making every fibre in her body coming alive and she is burning in the flames of the pleasure Brittany is making her feel everywhere.

"Brittany"

She cries out, when her muscles clench around Brittany's fingers, consuming everything she can of her and her nails dig into her strong back, and she's falling over the edge fast and hard, in her arms.

Brittany helps her riding her orgasm out, her mouth letting go of her breast to kiss all over her neck and cheeks, and her fingers never stop moving inside Santana, until her frantic hips settle back on the couch and her trembling hands drop from Brittany's back into the tiny space between them.

"I guess we have a deal then"

She mumbles weakly, eyes still closed, when the mush inside her scalp turns back into her brain again.

Brittany chuckles and lays a wet kiss on her temple, before whispering into her ear.

"I guess we have"

/

"We need some new rules though"

Brittany tells her when she remerges from the bathroom and sits down beside her on the couch again.

It was pretty weird earlier when Noah called, and she was still topless when he started talking to her. Brittany rushed to tuck her breasts back inside her dress again, handling them a little on the way, and Santana had to push her hand to her mouth to keep herself from moaning into the phone. She only released her hold when Brittany pulled the zipper up and let go of the messy thong she placed back to fit Santana right again.

Much to her joy, Noah said things were all right between him and Quinn, and he managed to convince Quinn to go out with him, and it meant they could hold the birthday party Santana wanted to surprise her best friend with. She thanked him for his excellence at manipulating girls into drinking, and made Brittany giggle beside her loudly, and she realized she didn't even care if he heard it through the phone.

But it didn't mean she wanted to outright advertise she had sex with Brittany like a sparkling billboard with her sweaty skin, and her burning cheeks, so after finishing a round of calls with Sam and Michael, she excused herself to the bathroom.

She didn't lock the door though, and there was a hint of disappointment in her when Brittany didn't follow her to have a second round. Of course, it was the sensible thing to do, since they only had an hour until they were supposed to meet the others at the bar.

When she exited the bathroom though, and she could see Brittany was deep in thought.

And now she knows why.

"What kind of rules?" She asks with a frown, not sure what Brittany means by that.

Brittany just shrugs, while turning to face her.

"I don't want to pretend anymore" She explains bluntly, and Santana swallows hard. "I just don't want to lie about us. If I'm in the mood to kiss you at a party, then I just want to do it and not care what anyone says."

It's a reasonable request, but it doesn't mean she likes it.

"But I can't not care Brittany…people will talk about us behind our backs and…they will judge us" She tries to explain, knowing exactly what a bunch of gossipy losers make most of the people of USC.

"So? What's wrong with two people having sex occasionally while they are getting to know each other?" Brittany asks frowning. "How is that a bad thing?"

She exhales slowly, and shakes her head.

Maybe she really shouldn't care for those losers, for once in her life. But there is a part of her that thinks it might not be the best idea to appear together so openly and she doesn't ever want to put Brittany into a dangerous situation. Of course they did kiss in front of others already, but making it a constant thing would catch people's eyes more and she knows she has to be careful and stay under the surface to survive.

"It's not but…everybody would be all up in our business. And I just hate the idea of people knowing about my private life" She tries to reason carefully, avoiding to sound like she's not open to reach any kind of compromise.

She is okay with Brittany's suggestion, but she knows she has to be really careful here.

"I'm not about to shout it from the rooftop. But I don't want to feel like I'm your dirty little secret anymore." Brittany shrugs dejectedly, and Santana feels for her.

She knows how bad she made Brittany feel earlier, and she doesn't want to make the same mistake. And if that's what Brittany wants, then she will give her that.

"Ugh…I just…okay, I'll try not to give a fuck. But it won't be easy"

"Thank you" Brittany kisses the corner of her mouth, and Santana instantly thinks it was worth to agree, but she pulls away quickly again. "But um, there is something more."

"More rules?" Santana shoots her a weak smile, not sure what else to expect now.

"Just one, but this is kind of important to me." Brittany tells her seriously, her expression hardening a little. "I would like us to find a new place."

Her eyes widen, because Brittany's couch has served them just fine so far.

And well, every other surface they had sex on in this house too, so Santana doesn't really get it why they would need to find a new place for these encounters.

"Like a motel?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Yeah" Brittany nods, and she actually turns a bit embarrassed under her quizzical stare and Santana feels bad for not agreeing to it already.

It's not that she doesn't want to, a motel is perfectly okay for her, anywhere is perfectly okay for her with Brittany, but it just bugs her what the reason behind her request might be.

"I could be down with that…but why?" She asks with a frown, and Brittany averts her eyes.

She's blushing, and Santana almost backtracks on her question because she is making her feel uncomfortable, but Brittany answers quietly.

"I…just I want to be able to leave, too"

Her words make Santana freeze in her place, and she feels like she's just been slapped, her cheeks burning from the stinging pain and she is pretty sure a realization never hit her this hard. She left Brittany after every time they had sex, and now she knows how wrong that was. She knows it made Brittany feel not just hurt, but like they were not equals in their relationship. She always escaped and Brittany was the one who was always left behind.

And she needs to be able to leave, too, if they want to be equals now.

"I know a good place, there're always free rooms if you pay enough and they are really discrete." She shoots Brittany a tight-lipped smile, trying to hide how deeply she is actually affected by her request.

"Perfect" Brittany smiles back at her, and the silence that comes after makes her feel weird.

She takes a look around the living room again, and tries not to be bothered by how Brittany is staring at her in silence. The silence always makes her feel uncomfortable, because she always feels like Brittany can actually hear the thoughts in her head screaming, so she can't help herself when she chuckles awkwardly.

"So you're gonna be…my sex friend?" She muses loudly, and it's just when the question left her mouth she realizes how immature she is acting.

"You are such a dork." Brittany giggles, and touches her forearm to pull her closer.

Santana frowns at her, and tries to hold back, but it has no use, Brittany is the stronger one and she quickly finds herself sitting in her lap.

"I'm not -"

"You are and stop arguing, 'cause we still have an hour and I'm not gonna leave this house without having an orgasm." Brittany tells her confidently, and Santana is not about to argue anymore.

Not when Brittany Pierce wants her to give her an orgasm.

/

Santana is really not one of those girls, but she just wants to hug someone and weep silently at how sickeningly cute Michael and Quinn are.

She catches Brittany looking at them longingly, when Quinn blows out the candles on her cake with the help of Mike Jr. in her lap and shares a look with Michael when she is supposed to wish for something. She and Brittany both know what Quinn truly wishes for, every sane person would know just by looking at the pair of her and Michael, and Brittany's expression doesn't hide her own deepest wish. She is longing to have the same, what Quinn and Michael already have inside them.

Love in its purest form.

It's something Santana could only dream about, but she doesn't feed such foolish wishes. It just doesn't seem possible for her to ever have that in her life. She doesn't know who could ever love her like Quinn and Michael love each other.

But Brittany has every chance to find this kind of love in her life.

And when the time comes, Santana knows she'd have to let her go, to let her be loved by someone who deserves to love her.

For now though, she doesn't want to think about what the future might hold for them.

She just wants to be happy for her best friend.

/

It might turn out she is one of those girls, after all.

When Quinn starts staring at her in a weird way, and glances at the little boy in her lap then Michael, she just frowns, but Brittany takes action and with a lighthearted giggle, she starts making funny faces at the kid. Shortly, he tries to crawl out of Quinn's lap to get closer to them, and Brittany picks him up, leaving Quinn and Michael in privacy.

Quinn shoots her a grateful smile, and Santana feels like she is socially retarded compared to Brittany.

Of course Quinn tried to tell her she wanted some privacy with Michael.

But now Brittany and the kid are sitting down at their table, and he is poking her cheeks when she makes another dorky face, and Santana is about to lay her head on Sam's shoulder beside her and just sigh a rainbow out of her mouth.

Of course she does her best to pretend she is not affected by Brittany being her amazing self with the cutest child on this planet, but she decides it'd be better to leave before she starts day-dreaming about having dark-haired cute babies somewhere in the future.

"Puckerman" She elbows the boy beside her in the ribs, and he frowns at her confused. "I think we should turn this party into a real party, if you know what I mean"

His mouth turns into a smirk instantly and she wonders how someone could have turned out to be an astronaut with so few brain cells. And the way he is destructing himself, she wonders how he has so many he is still capable of doing a fine job.

"I got you…let's hit the bar" He stands up and offers her a hand with a sly wink.

She takes it with a roll of her eyes, but she lets out a giggle shortly after, because Puckerman acting like a gentleman is the most hilarious thing in the world.

"I thought this was a non-alcoholic birthday party." Sam raises his eyebrows, and stares at them questioningly.

"You might be a softie, Sam, but I don't do parties without alcohol" Santana says sassily before shooting him a sugary smile, and Brittany tries to hold back a chuckle, but fails miserably.

"Just take it easy, all right?" Sam ducks his head, averting their eyes.

"We will, dad" Santana leans down and kisses his rosy cheek, before grabbing Noah's hand roughly to drag him to the bar.

/

"So, what's the deal Lo'?" Noah asks when they are seated at the bar, and a glass of red wine is set in front of either of them.

"Shh, you dumbass, we are not in private" She hits him in the ribs, glaring at him.

She can't believe how careless he can sometimes be.

"Ouch, you are crazy…why do you hit so hard every time?" He groans, rubbing his chest like he was actually wounded in a bloody war.

"Sorry…anger management is not my expertise" She rolls her eyes, before taking a sip of wine.

It's sweet and sour at the same time, velvety on her tongue and lulling her mind just right.

Noah takes a gulp of his glass, and clicks his tongue.

"Okay… so…not that I'm not entirely satisfied by drinking with you here, but I had the sense you wanted to talk about something, you know." He says, setting his glass back and leaning closer.

"Two things, actually" She nods slowly, and he tilts his head to the side curiously. "What happened with Quinn?" She asks bluntly, because there is no point for subtlety here.

"Oh…uh, we talked and I think we are at a good place now, you know." Noah rubs the back of his head, and he seems quite determined, and that's a good thing she thinks. "I think we had closure and now we are moving on. I think we can be friends now, real friends" He nods, and

"I'm proud of you. I mean, I'm not gonna lie…I wanted to kick your ass all 'round town when she told me, but…" She shrugs, because she has to admit it really boiled her blood what they did, what Noah let Quinn do, but she can't be truly angry at him now. "I'm really happy it all turned out for the better."

"It sure did…but um, no offense or anything, but I'm more concerned about Michael's reaction here" He says pointedly, lowering his voice.

"They are not together…and Michael, I think he'd understand" She says with hope, not for the sake of Puckerman's safety, instead for the sake of her best friend's happiness.

That's the one thing that matters to her here.

Noah would survive a lot of things, but Quinn, she needs this one chance in her life. This is her chance to be happy, her one and only chance, it's Michael.

"I hope they'll be fine…I mean, just lookin' at them, even the Puckster is a tad bit jealous of their love." He says, shaking his head fondly towards Michael and Quinn, who seems to be engaged in a serious conversation in the corner.

"Yeah" Santana nods her head slowly and catches a glance at the other occupied table in the bar.

But she quickly snaps her eyes away, because that's just a stupid thing to think about love. She is not really sure she truly knows what that is. Of course, she's loved people in her life. She's loved her grandparents, and her friends, but love…to be _in love_ with someone, she doesn't know how that feels. She doesn't know what she's been missing out on for twenty-four years, and she wonders if she'd ever get to know, because seeing it from outside, witnessing two people being in love, it just seems fucking heart-breaking.

It's just so beautiful.

"And what about the other thing?" Noah clears his throat, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Oh" She catches up with the question, shaking her head subtly. "Uh, I owe you a confession I think…because the last time, I wasn't honest with you and I'm really sorry for that." She tells him guiltily, and he frowns in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about…me and Brittany" She says quietly, focusing her eyes on the smooth texture of the red wine in her glass.

"Damn, I just knew it…" Puckerman pats her shoulder roughly, and her jaw drops from his rudeness.

"What is wrong with you? I didn't just shag her for fun or to feed my pride, not like all those other girls. She likes me, Puckerman, do you get that? This is way more complicated than two hot girls screwing each other." She tries to explain, and wipe that satisfied smirk off his face, and she pretty much succeeds, because his expression turns serious.

"I didn't mean to be offensive, not now. You know I like her, too" He shrugs his shoulders and she rolls her eyes, because Noah really doesn't know how to not be offensive sometimes. "But I don't see no wrong with all that…I mean, it's all right if you're just screwing, it's all right if it means more. It is complicated, considering your situation, but I'll stand by your side…whatever you do, always." He lowers his voice, and gives her a firm nod, and his words make her heart feel so much warmer than the wine.

"Thanks" She smiles, and pats his hand affectionately. "We talked earlier with Brittany and…she changed the way I see things a lot. I think she just wants to get to know me, and I think I'm kind of okay with that. I mean, I'm gonna try and be her friend, or whatever" She shrugs, because she is still not sure the word 'friend' qualifies to describe their possible relationship.

"Don't you want more?" Noah asks carefully, leaning closer to her.

"I don't deserve her, that way, no…I can't be with her, with anyone really...not until we come back, and you know that." She says with a hint of disappointment she can't hide from Noah.

She can't be engage in a relationship with Brittany until she comes back from the mission. But who knows where Brittany would be by that time, one and a half years from now? Who knows if she'd still want to be with her?

Nobody knows, so she can't think about the future.

She has to just live now and try letting go of her doubts.

"I think she'd understand…maybe in time, you could tell her and see for yourself" Noah whispers into her ear, before laying a hard kiss on her temple.

"Maybe in time" She smiles, raising her glass to the promise of the future. "Until then, we're gonna be friends…with benefits"

She smirks at the way Noah's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, before closing her eyes and sipping from her wine slowly.

"Cheers"

/

The first test of 'friends with benefits' comes into her way ten minutes later, when they return to their friends, and Brittany gets a phone call.

Apparently it is Sugar calling and Santana is her usual what-the-hell self for a second, because apparently Brittany does know people apart from them at USC, and apparently, it's a member of her mission that' just called her.

And she is pretty sure as a 'friend with benefits' she is not qualified to feel even a hint of jealousy when Brittany announces she's not free on Friday night, because she is going out with Sugar, and her friends. She tries her best not to, and just be happy that Brittany makes friends outside of their circle too. She is happy, but she is freaked out just the same amount.

She really does have to improve at this 'friends with benefits' thing, and she wonders whether books exist about this topic, like five steps to be a good sex friend, or how to stay _just_ friends when you can still smell the other's arousal on your fingers if you inhale deeply and it makes you feel sick to your stomach that another person might have the same with your 'just friend'.

She wonders if it's possible to learn how to be just a friend, but she promises herself to do everything she can to be the person Brittany wants her to be.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**

**Please review and tell me what you think!**


	10. Part 8b

**Dear readers!**

**Here's the second half of Part 8. It might have been better to post the two chapters in one, but it came out like this so...**

**I'm happy there're people who are reading the story with patience and trust the characters and me! I appriciate your devotion to the story! **

**I would like to ask people to review if you have time, because you really do help me improve my writing and the story itself!**

**Thank you!**

**emmanuelle-s. tumblr. com **

* * *

**Part 8b**

"I'm not sure I approve" Quinn says apologetically when she lets her in on her deal with Brittany.

They are sitting in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate before going to bed, and they're catching upon what happened to the other before the party.

Quinn already shared what went down between her and Michael. She confessed her feelings towards Michael, and he told him he felt the same way about her, but asked for some time. She gave him time, and now the choice is in Michael's hands. And her trust is laid with him.

Santana can only hope he is worthy of her trust, and her heart.

The harder part came after Quinn finished, recalling what happened between her and Brittany, and trying to sum it up for Quinn to understand.

She is pretty sure it was an impossible task to begin with. So many things happened in so little time, so many things changed inside her, and changed between them too.

"I'm not sure about it either…but I promised myself I'd give her what she wanted." She tries to explain why she agreed to Brittany's wish. "She wants to know me, Quinn…for the first time in my life, there is someone who is not interested in the damn numbers and figures, she just wants to know _me_."

"But the sex, Santana…it makes everything so complicated." Quinn shakes her head, and she looks guilty for not being happy for her, instead questioning her decision. But Santana knows Quinn is doing it out of consideration, because she is a good friend to her. "It can ruin the friendship you two build on the way."

And she is right.

It can ruin them, but she promised Brittany she'd not think about that.

The consequences.

Until it feels right, she'd not think, just feel.

"I just…Quinn, you don't get it." Santana shakes her head, struggling to keep her voice even. "When I'm with Brittany, I just feel like it doesn't matter who I am…when she kisses me and touches me, it's all just _me_. And I can never just be me, when we are not together like that." She whispers, her deepest feelings pouring out of her.

Her eyes water, and she doesn't know how these words let her mouth with so much sense, when inside, she's never managed to compose them just right. Would this be really how she feels, she wonders, closing her eyes to force away the tears that threaten to escape.

Isn't it funny that the one thing that meant to happen without feelings between her and Brittany offers her the only chance to feel and feel like herself, not the person she has to be like to survive.

Isn't it funny and fucking cruel at the same time?

It is, and that's why she has to release a shaky breath while she's trying to get in touch with this feeling that's been lurking inside her for a month and just broken the surface.

Quinn gives her time, and space to handle it, and only dares to rest her palm on the back of her hand when Santana casts her gaze back at her.

"I get it, I really do…" Quinn offers gently. "I'm just worried, that's all."

Santana smiles gratefully, and pats Quinn's hand before straightening her back, her resolve quickly recovering.

"Don't worry so much!" She asks of her, determined that Quinn has no reason to do so. "Remember what you said? I can do this"

She smirks confidently, and winks at Quinn, who is staring at her with fondness.

"I'm proud of you" Quinn's mouth turns into a wide smile.

But her words make Santana embarrassed.

"Oh now you're getting way too corny for my taste, Quinn…so if you don't mind, I'm gonna get my beauty sleep on" She stands up and throws her hair behind her shoulder, shooting a mocking smirk to Quinn, before placing her empty mug into the sink.

Quinn chuckles while shaking her head, as Santana passes the kitchen island on her way to the door.

"Okay, run away and pretend you're not a sap, Santana! I already know you are…" Quinn trails off, and Santana turns back on her heels, glaring at her.

"Shut up!" She shoots her down, her eyes narrowing even more, but Quinn just stares at her with amusement written all over her face.

"You love me" She shrugs, and Santana rolls her eyes, because fuck that's one damn fact she's not about to admit tonight.

She's already proven it just enough by pouring her guts out to Quinn.

So she just settles to say the only thing that comes into her mind, but knows Quinn will get the hidden meaning of.

"I hate you"

And leaves her smiling best friend behind, whom she nothing but loves.

/

The director requests a meeting with her Monday morning.

There's no agenda in the message, and she ponders what the reason behind Sylvester's request might be. Several possibilities enter her mind, better and worse, but it turns out she had no chance whatsoever to make the right bet.

"I'd like you to give the welcome speech to our new trainees" Sylvester tells her, and Santana has to force herself to keep her mouth shut and not squeal in excitement. "It's an honor, and a great responsibility I entrust you with."

She feels her heart flutter, because it's not just about a speech, it's about the fact that she's the leader of their navigator department now, something she's been dreaming to achieve for a long time. It's something she's been chasing to reach with her hands since Rachel Berry told her she'd be the next big thing. And now she's the poster child.

Santana Lopez, an in-valid, is the poster child of the most highly acclaimed company of their valid country.

It's ridiculous, and she has to force the facade of detachment on herself to keep her composure.

"Thank you, director!" She nods with respect, and shoots Sylvester a confident smile. "I'll make sure to do my best."

"That's one thing I'm sure of." Sylvester smirks faintly, but the lighter tone of their conversation quickly subdues as she leans forward in her huge leather chair and rests her elbows on the table. "Look, I'm sure you're perfectly in touch with the kind of delicate situation we're trying to handle here. There are ten people, who come here to offer their talent to this company, and trust us to make the best of them, and it's your task to convince them they choose the right path."

It's pretty hard not to let out a snort at hearing 'delicate situation', because having no idea whatsoever what is happening on the mission of Triton is what she'd rather call a fucking disaster. But as a director, Sue Sylvester must be a true diplomat, and Santana gets her point of course. They shouldn't let this failure discourage the potential youth who have faith in them, and their company. They should make this group of people believe they can help build a space agency where what happened to Rachel Berry and her team won't ever happen again.

"Do I get the right impression that I should rather focus on the future, director?" Santana asks carefully, raising her eyebrows a little.

"Exactly." Sylvester nods, and for a second Santana feels grateful that due to some wonder she inherited such high plane of intelligence from her in-valid family. "I certainly don't want to keep them in the dark about what is going on now, but in the next six months they have to focus on themselves and their own development, and they need to trust their mentors and us completely, to be able to do that."

The director explains further, and she agrees with her perspective.

It'll be one damn hard thing to do, but she's up for a challenge.

"I'm sure I'll find the right approach." She clears her throat delicately, her mind already occupied with a handful of lines she could score to make the newbies bow down in front of her high heels. "When the introduction day is gonna be held?"

She gets down to business, because though she likes conversing with the director, she's awfully late on her schedule today.

"Next Monday, at the conference room. I'm gonna send the agenda to you." Sylvester turns to her computer, and looks up the schedule for the day. "I'm opening the day at 8.30, and your speech is planned to start at 10 am. Take the time you need, and spend as much time with them as you see fit, you are excused from work all day."

Santana frowns in surprise.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary." She says lowly, trying not to sound like she'd rather get to her own job than spend a day with an over-confident and under-educated bunch of newbies.

"I think you're forgetting your first day here, Miss Perez." Sylvester shoots her an amused smile, and Santana stops blinking entirely. "But I do remember. I found your confidence outrageous and you were crude, and I was grateful that I had someone like Miss Berry around who could handle your attitude and not be annoyed at your eagerness at all."

The words shock Santana, because she's never made an attempt to analyze herself from the outside. She's never given a fuck, and on the contrary to her belief, she's never managed to hide that fact.

"Uh" She chokes out pathetically, thinking this might be the first time Sue Sylvester reduced her to speechlessness.

Sensing her discomfort, Sylvester shrugs a little, trying to lighten the mood.

"But I knew you were brilliant already on the first day back, and Miss Berry shared my sentiments." She shares, and now Santana is embarrassed for an entirely different reason. "In fact, she demanded the appointments to be changed, so she could be your mentor."

"She never told me" Santana huffs with a storm of indignation that Rachel's hidden this information from her for so long.

She snaps her eyes away from Sylvester's amused expression and wonders how the original appointment might have looked like. If Rachel hadn't been her mentor, then everything would have been different. If Sam and Kurt hadn't been a pair, maybe they would've never gotten involved in a secret affair. If Noah and Rachel had been a pair, maybe Finn couldn't have gotten in the way of their romance.

Everything would have been different, and she wonders whether Rachel's decision was exactly what Brittany would call fate.

"Of course she hasn't." Sylvester clears her throat, snapping her out of her thoughts. "But my point is…you're gonna have a chance to witness brilliance showing itself, and I don't want you to waste it. If there's someone who wants to follow you around all day, then I want you to let them and answer all their questions. If you lose your patience, which I also happen to know you're apt to do sometimes, then send them off and catch a break. You're not appointed to mentor any of them obviously because of the upcoming mission, but I want you to act as a leader and offer guidance to all of them otherwise."

Santana nods, up and down slowly, feeling the weight of her task for the first time. Not just the task next Monday, but the task of acting as a leader for the next four months here, and the twelve that comes after in space.

"I got you, director." She says confidently, excitement buzzing in her veins.

Sylvester changed her perspective quite a lot just now, and Santana knows she won't be there just to impress and intimidate the new trainees; her role will be much bigger.

"Good" Sylvester clasps her hands together, and looks at her expectantly.

Santana doesn't really get it, and it makes her uncomfortable and she gets the sense she is supposed to be on our way to the door now, but something is keeping her attached to the leather chair under her.

"Director?" She asks carefully, and Sylvester's hard look doesn't change.

It feels like she's still just waiting for something.

"Yes?"

Then Santana realizes she is waiting for her to ask what they are both thinking about at last.

"Is there any news about the mission?"

"I'm afraid I have to tell you there is no change." Sylvester murmurs with a sigh, and rubs her wrinkled forehead. "Our technicians are doing their bests to repair the connection, but I'm afraid the problem occurs at the far end. All we can do is trust the team and their abilities to find their way back home."

Santana knew the answer, but she had to ask anyway. She had to make sure, however disappointed hearing the answer out loud make her feel.

"Thank you, director." She says with a timid nod, before standing up.

"Don't lose hope, Miss Perez" Sylvester says to her back quietly, when her hand wraps around the doorknob.

She turns back to give her a half-smile, before exiting the room and closing the door after herself smoothly with a sigh.

A smiling Brittany welcomes her outside, and she recalls the day a month ago when she shared with her what happened to Rachel and her team. The words Brittany said that time echo in her mind, and she smiles back at her because it's not that hard to do what Sylvester told her to do when there're people around her who make her believe it is true.

There is always hope.

/

The rest of Monday goes down uneventful.

Apart from a few smiles, she doesn't get much indication from Brittany that they're meant to start their friends with benefits chapter today and she's left there hang upon her when Brittany announces she has stuff to do after work so she can't join them for drinks.

So drinks are just drinks, and she has to spend much of the evening having dude-talk with Sam and Noah, because Quinn can't stop swooning over Michael. It doesn't take long after she sends her off to talk to him, but Quinn shoots her down, claiming she promised to give the man space. She rolls her eyes, but leaves her alone after that.

She shares what happened in Sylvester's offical, and though the boys are equally disappointed over hearing nothing changed for the better on the mission of Triton, after mopping up a bottle of vodka, the mood shifts considerably, and the conversation leads to Noah announcing he'll fuck every new trainee girl this year. He almost slips up about her and Brittany when she tells him that even the straight girls would rather fuck her than him, but she smacks his bicep as a precaution, causing him to whine about the constant physical terror she's keeping him in.

She tells him she just likes it rough, the sexual innuendo causing him to choke on his drink, and that's when she thinks the night should come to an end.

It does, and she wonders what Brittany is doing when she slips under the heavy comforter to fall asleep.

And she wonders when the next night will be that she won't spend alone in a cold bed.

/

Tuesday is the day.

It's enough of a suggestion for Santana when Brittany starts playing footsie with her under the table at lunch.

She calls her from the car after work, and she wishes there'd be someone to high-five when Brittany tells her she'll be down there in ten minutes and follow her car to the motel.

Ten minutes later, she hears a horn blowing and catches Brittany waving from her car in the rearview mirror. She smirks, while pulling out of her place, and shooting a glance at the monitor to check the driving instructions. She makes sure Brittany is following her closely before speeding up to lead the way.

/

She feels awkward and not really sure what she is supposed to do when Brittany locks the door after them.

She drops her bag to a chair, and takes a look around in the room. Brittany excuses herself to the bathroom, and it causes her to panic. She is not sure whether it's a clue that she should get naked now, or Brittany just actually needs to use the bathroom. Her eyes flicker all over the room, and she shakes her head inwardly, because when having sex became so complicated for Santana Lopez, she has no idea.

When Brittany returns, fully clothed still, she releases a breath that she didn't make a fool out of herself by waiting for her in nothing but her red lingerie.

Brittany senses her unease, and smiles at her encouragingly.

She takes a seat on the bed, and pulls her beige pumps down to free her feet and unclasps her necklace to place it on the nightstand. Santana's eyes follow her graceful moves, and she parts her lips slightly when Brittany takes the pins from her hair and shakes her blonde locks. They fall around her shoulder, framing her pale cheeks, and it's a beautiful contrast with the dark shirt she's decided to wear today. She is still glued to her place on the other side of the room, when Brittany stops undressing and turns to her.

Brittany tilts her head to the side curiously, and Santana tries to shake off her nerves.

This shouldn't be a big deal for her, to have sex with someone, especially someone she's had amazing sex with before and someone who's looking at her so gently and comfortingly now.

"Come here" Brittany reaches out for her with a hand, and she crosses the room slowly to stand in front of her.

Brittany's hand settles on her stomach, and it's embarrassing how her muscles clench under her palm. She gulps, when Brittany's other hand comes up to join the one on her stomach and she starts stroking her through her shirt.

"What's wrong?" She looks up at her behind her eyelashes, and Santana swallows hard.

"Nothing" Santana answers quickly, and puts her palms on Brittany's hands to encourage them.

Her touch is soothing her second by second and she feels her stiff muscles reacting and loosening under her warm palm. She lets go of her hands, and releases a sigh, trying to just feel what Brittany is doing to her. She does feel it already between her legs, she just has to shut her mind off and concentrate on that.

"Is it the place?" Brittany frowns, while her hands creep upwards until they reach the top button of her shirt. She starts unbuttoning it, but her concentration doesn't falter, her eyes never leaving Santana's face. "I think it's nice…and look, the bed is huge" She motions behind herself with her chin, and Santana chuckles lightly.

She shakes her head, and watches Brittany pulling her shirt to the sides to reveal her bra. Her hands settle on her waist under the shirt and her thumbs start stroking her naked skin, causing goose bumps to spread all over while she's staring at her expectantly.

"Britt, it's not the bed or anything…there's just so much in my head." Santana shrugs her shoulders, and tries to act like it's no big deal.

She tries to convince herself that it's not, but she can't do anything when her body is telling her it is.

Brittany's fingers stop moving on her waist, and she stares at her weirdly for seconds before the corners of her mouth turn upwards. She pulls Santana closer until her breath hits her belly-button, and Santana has to grip her shoulders while her lips part unconsciously at feeling her hot and wet mouth hover over her bare, itching skin.

"Then why don't we see if I can do something about that?" Brittany whispers, eyes half-lidded before she leans in to place an open-mouthed kiss on her stomach.

Then…her shirt slips from her shoulders, and everything slips out of her mind, and it's just Brittany and her mouth kissing all over her stomach, and her hands pulling her skirt down, and her lustful eyes marveling over every inch of her body. It's her tongue that licks her bottom lip when Santana leans down to kiss her, and her fingers that unclasp her bra to finally touch her without barriers.

When she climbs on the bed and straddles Brittany's lap, and they stop kissing for a second to catch their breaths, and Brittany rests her forehead on her shoulder, while her hands are stroking the low of her back, she doesn't _think_ it's a big deal anymore.

She _knows_ it is, and she doesn't even want to hide it anymore.

And she wants to show Brittany how big of a deal it is for her to have sex with her.

When they're both naked completely, and Brittany's back hits the bed, she hovers over her and rests her elbow beside Brittany's head while her other hands strokes the inner of her thigh until it finds the place it belongs to, the wettest and warmest place, and she touches her like she's never touched someone before.

Because she's never met a person like her before.

And although it sometimes freaks the shit out of her, it feels amazing.

When Brittany is moving with her fingers inside her, and her hands try to reach as much skin as possible, and Santana is peppering kisses all over her collarbones, it feels nothing but right. And she doesn't stop until Brittany's face screws up and her thighs clench around her waist, and she's coming for her, she is coming for Santana Lopez but she's screaming another person's name and that's when Santana knows her days are counted until Brittany S. Pierce will get to know _her_.

And her secrets, too.

/

"You really are perfect, aren't you?"

Brittany mumbles into the damp skin above her left breast absentmindedly.

It turned out it's her favorite place to rest after sex, and now that it's a casual Friday evening, they have plenty of time to hang out and rest…or maybe rest before having another round. She's reading a vintage issue of New York magazine on her tablet, while Brittany is spread out over her body, her head lying on her chest, and her left hand drawing circles on her ribcage.

"Britt…I'm not." Santana replies, never taking her eyes off of the screen.

She does though, when Brittany's fingers reach the underside of her boob. She licks her lips, and drops the tablet on the bed, and watches her nipples stiffen due to Brittany's gentle touch.

"But your boobs are so perfect." Brittany mutters, before her palm comes atop her breast to cup it firmly. "They're soft, but firm, so plush…like my favorite pillow. I just want to push my face between them and stay there forever." She inhales the scent of her skin and strokes her breast slowly, like it's the most natural thing in the world. The touch is so innocent, quite the contrary of Brittany's straight-forward words but Santana grabs her wrist, before she could drive her crazy.

She is not ready to have another round yet.

She is too sensitive.

"You're just a pervert" She tells Brittany, pulling her hand away and dropping it on the bed beside her body.

Brittany raises her head and snaps her eyes at her, and Santana blushes, because Brittany is looking at her like she's was talking about the eighth wonder of the world, and she just told her it didn't even exist. She ducks her head and only raises it again when she feels Brittany settle back on her chest.

"Maybe…but it's not just your boobs. When I go down on you -"

"I'm pretty sure there's a bunch of chicks having the same girl parts as me out there" She blurts out ironically, and Brittany sighs. She feels bad for mocking her, because Brittany is actually paying the biggest compliments to her, but that's exactly what she can't handle.

"I don't think so." Brittany says quietly, and the topic is just starting to bug her.

Her heart starts beating faster, and she moves out from under Brittany to settle on her side. Brittany stares at her questioningly, and a tad bit hurt that she can't enjoy the warmth of her body anymore, and turns to match her position in the middle of the bed.

"Why? Don't you like anyone else apart from me?" Santana asks nonchalantly, playing with the sheets between them.

"Well…liking someone and wanting to have sex with them all the time are two different things." Brittany shrugs, and she raises an eyebrow in amusement.

So it turns out, Brittany wants to have sex with her all the time. Good to know her feelings are not one sided in this aspect. But she'd rather know who else Brittany likes.

She's dying to know who she likes.

And she's just had the perfect idea how to find out, if Brittany is partner in the game.

"Then let's play a game…" She suggests, knowing that Brittany will play honest and fair.

Blue eyes light up immediately, and she knows she's got her.

"Oh, I like games. Games are fun…what do you have in mind?"

"Hmmm…I'll tell you names, and you tell me what you think about those people. But you have to be honest." Santana point her finger to pronounce how serious she is being with honesty here, and Brittany doesn't seem to be afraid of that. Of course, Brittany is never afraid to be honest.

"Okay"

When she nods, and waits patiently for the first name she comes up with, Santana is in trouble. The game was a good idea, but now she actually has to come up with names, and her brain seems to have stopped working. She desperately tries to make it work again, when an idea hits her.

"Um…Quinn" She blurts out, but she immediately regrets it looking at Brittany's displeased expression.

"She is my friend." Brittany says firmly, like she's giving enough explanation not to answer the question.

But now that Santana thinks about it, friends ain't mean a thing.

"So? I'm your friend, too…or whatever" She shrugs her shoulders, but Brittany just chuckles at her.

"You are being silly…next name, please"

She rolls her eyes, and sigs, before deciding to come up with the one and only name she is truly interested in hearing about.

"Okay let's…what do you think about…um, Sugar?"

Her question hangs in the air, and her throat feels dry when Brittany doesn't answer for seconds.

"Sugar…I guess she has nice hair, and her legs are amazing." She offers thoughtfully, and Santana hates that she decided to play such a stupid game. But now that they're in the middle, she can't let this chance go, however the information she is hearing troubles her.

"I thought you wouldn't answer cause she's your friend too." She mumbles, catching a glance at Brittany's face.

"Not everybody who I talk to is my friend. She just invited me to a party."

Brittany explains, raising her eyebrows to make a point but she doesn't stop. Her brain is trying to make sense of what Brittany is saying, and it feels like she's just trying to drag her away from the direction she wants to go. She is even sliding closer and pushes a thigh between her legs, but she tugs at her shoulder to stop her.

"Does this mean you'd want to have sex with her?" She asks pathetically, and bites down on her bottom lip when Brittany's nipples dig into her chest, and she starts palming her ass.

"Shh" Brittany soothes her, and shakes her head.

She doesn't answer and she is doing it again. She is using her body to manipulate her, and she knows damn well she'll give in again.

"Brittany" She pants, while making a pathetic attempt to push Brittany's shoulders away.

Brittany only tightens her hold around her and pulls her body into her, while pushing her thigh into her sensitive core. She moans loudly, while Brittany buries her face into her neck.

"I don't want to talk about Sugar anymore" She whispers into her ear. "To be honest, I don't want to talk at all…'cause the only person I want to have sex with is you now"

She says lustfully, before moving her thigh between her legs to reach her clit and Santana stops thinking completely, and lets go of her questions.

She knows the one thing she's wanted to know already.

/

It's pretty hard to leave when they can't stop kissing in the doorway.

She has to basically push Brittany out of the room, and tell her she's gonna be late for the hundredth time. Even though she is not completely okay with the fact that she is leaving to go out for drinks with Sugar and her friends, she is acting like she is. The only thing that matters is that Brittany told her she is the only one she wants, and her tongue inside her mouth is a good proof of that.

When she finally pulls out, Santana gives her one last peck on the lips and says goodbye.

Brittany smiles at her widely before turning on her heels to leave.

Santana's eyes never leave her form until she's turned on the corner and goes out of sight.

She lets out a deep sigh, and crosses her arms in front of her bathrobe, staring into nothingness. The sky is turning darker by the second and the stars can't hide themselves for long now. She's only snapped out of her thoughts when something flashes in the distance, blinding her for a second. She frowns, searching for the source of the light, but she can only see so much in the dark. A few cars are parked on either side of the street, but there's no one walking around. Nothing is moving, so she shakes her head and convinces herself she just imagined it.

She's pretty tired after all, bordering brain dead.

She wonders whether too much sex is harmful for brain cells, because if so, then she has to really consider restraining the amount of sex she is having with Brittany. But she is not sure she'd be able to do that, since when it comes to sex with Brittany, too much is just never quite enough.

/

She can smell her all over the room.

The room smells of sex, dirty, sweaty, passionate sex, and it's making her light-headed. The sheets are messed up, but she slips her bathrobe from her body and slides under the comforter anyway. It's so warm there she'd never get out if she didn't have to. Pillows lay all around the room, and there's just one on the bed. But that one smells of Brittany.

It smells so sweet.

She tucks her hand under the pillow and turns her nose to inhale the scent deeply.

She falls asleep imagining it is Brittany she's holding onto.

/

There's just something that's keeping her here.

It's nearing Saturday evening but she is still not ready to leave.

This week has been so perfect so far. She is afraid if she steps out of the room, something will ruin this fragile happiness she's built here.

This room has become her safety heaven.

A motel room, which sounds pathetically funny, it is the one place she's felt truly happy for the first time in a while, maybe forever. It's not the sex, the handful of orgasms, it's everything else too. It's the way Brittany rests her head over her heart after she slumps on the bed, it's the way she strokes her skin just because she can, it's the way her nose scrunches when Santana reaches down to tickle her side. It's the way she stares at her after Santana wakes up from a light slumber.

It's the way they talk, sometimes just about nothing, and silly things.

But sometimes they talk about life, and she learns a lot about Brittany. The more she learns, the more she wants to know. Sometimes she's afraid to ask though.

Brittany is not afraid.

Of course she's not. She asks everything that comes into her mind, and Santana tries to answer her best as she can. So far, she has not lied to her. The truth might've stayed hidden behind her answers more or less, but she has not lied to her. And it feels really damn good.

Day by day Brittany is getting to know her, here, in this room, where Santana can be herself.

So it's damn hard to leave and live in the real world again, where she has to be another person to survive.

/

"Santana? Where the hell have you been? You know what, I don't even care!" Quinn's yelling welcomes her when she exits the elevator. "Get your ass in here now!"

Santana's eyebrows furrow, and she's about to yell something back to Quinn about handling her hormones, but Quinn's head pokes out of the bathroom and she senses something serious is happening here.

"Why are you freaking out?" She asks carefully, afraid to elicit an angry rant out of Quinn.

Quinn sighs, and appears in the doorway in a silk bathrobe, holding a handful of bras in her hand. Santana's frown just deepens, because she is pretty sure Quinn is perfectly capable of putting her underwear on, so the reason behind her hysterical state might be different. When Quinn averts her eyes, and mumbles something Santana can't quite catch while her cheeks start blushing, Santana is not sure she has to ask whether she's heard it right, but she does it anyway, just to make it damn well sure.

"What?"

Quinn gives up trying to contain her feelings, and her mouth turns into a bashful smile and Santana swears her heart skips a beat.

"I have a date"

/

"You're not helping, Santana" Quinn throws her hands in the air hysterically.

Santana's seated in a chair and Quinn is laying half her closet out on the bed. They've been over the shorter skirts already, since according to Quinn, they're all too slutty and suggesting for a first date. When Santana told her even her grandma wore shorter ones back in the golden days, Quinn just glared, and turned to the collection of dresses, ignoring her complitely.

But now she's trying to read her opinion.

"I just don't understand how I'm supposed to choose between two damn floral dresses. They all look the same to me..." She defends herself, shrugging, because she is really not an expert when it comes to dressing appropriately for a date.

She's never really dated after all.

So she goes for hot every time.

Not that she could look anything other than hot, even if she tried.

"I just want to look lovely tonight" Quinn sighs, and her shoulders slump. She stops searching in her closet, and just stands there, staring unfocused.

Santana stands up, and edges closer, until her elbow brushes Quinn's.

"I know but you'd, even in a huge black sac." She says teasingly and it makes Quinn chuckle. "Okay maybe not that, but…you are lovely Quinn, clothes don't matter shit."

She shrugs, and Quinn looks at her appreciatively, before turning back to her bed, where a stack of bras and panties lay around.

"And what about these? I just can't decide" She motions to the pile, and Santana follows her gaze, but a frown creeps upon her forehead.

"You're gonna wear those under your dress, that's why they're called underwear…he won't see them." She reasons, her eyes settling back onto Quinn's face, who ducks her head a little.

"But what if he…what if he wants to?" She asks weakly, staring at her feet.

Santana sighs, and her mouth turns into a faint smile.

Quinn is just being silly.

"Is this the reason why you're so nervous? About what comes after the date?"

"Yeah, I think so" Quinn says thoughtfully, rubbing her temple. "I mean, the talking, we've done that a lot already. But I don't know what I'm supposed to do after…because I know that I want to be with him, but I don't want him to think I'm some cheap girl."

Santana listens to her speaking, but her mind is only halfway there.

She wonders how funny it is, that for Quinn, the talking came way before anything physical can happen between her and Michael. They're used to talking, and feeling the other close emotionally. For her and Brittany though, it began with sex and everything else came after. They're just getting used to talking, and she's just trying to get used to letting someone in, and be close that way. They are doing things backwards.

Quinn and Michael are really different though, love found them before they could experience anything physical. It feels like they're catching up outside to what they're already feeling on the inside.

"I think you'll just know…when the moment comes. Don't worry about it!" Santana tries to encourage Quinn, and squeezes her shoulder.

Quinn glances at her, and her mouth turns slowly into a soft smile.

"I think I'm going with light rose then"

"I approve." Santana smiles back at her, and they share a moment. "Come out when you're ready."

Quinn nods, and grabs the pair of underwear she picked out, while Santana makes her way to the door.

"Santana?" Quinn asks, when Santana's pushing the door closed. She pokes her head back, with a raised eyebrow. "Thanks…for the help"

She winks cockily, before closing the door, and resting her back to it. A sighs leaves her mouth, and she wonders how it feels to really date someone, to dress up for them, and meet them, and talk and eat and drink, and be nervous about what comes after. To kiss goodbye or go home together, and be nervous about how it would feel like, to be with the person you want.

She wonders if there's a difference to how she feels when Brittany's closing the door of the motel every time.

/

Noah calls a bit later.

Quinn already left, her looks perfect and her emotional state a lot improved to the one welcoming Santana at home. She hugged her and wished her good luck, and made a round to the lobby to check if she's left. She would have dragged Quinn into her car, and driven her there if she hadn't. But she did leave, so Santana wished her a perfect night inside.

Because luck, that's something people in love don't need to make it.

She just lies down on the couch about to have a glass of red wine, and a low-key night, when Noah interrupts with a call.

Apparently, trainees are making an appearance at Nyx tonight, and he wants to check out the 'fresh meat' as he called the new girls, much to her displeasure. She tells her he's being sexist, and he doesn't even try to deny it.

She says yes with an eye-roll and hangs upon him.

She regrets her decision all the way until she catches sight of blond hair waving lightly in the breeze, and a sparkling navy dress, and a body that makes her mouth water, and a face that makes her knees buckle. All the way until Brittany looks at her, and shoots her a smile that would bring the stars down from the sky.

/

It's the four of them with the boys, and she has to try her hardest to control herself.

Sam is barely spending anytime with them, and he gets drunk fast on the dozen of shots Mercedes is serving them at their booth. He looks at her all lovey-dovey, and Santana shakes her head, because a drunken man is just a drunk man, thinking of getting their dick wet and nothing else. Nothing else until he wakes up beside her in a tiny creaking bed, wrapped in worn sheets does he think about what he is doing. But she is not someone to judge him.

She's done way worse to forget.

Noah is monitoring the dance floor like a hawk from his seat, and gives voice to his opinion when he catches anybody worth mentioning.

It makes her comfortable.

It's one damn thing that Brittany is sipping a cocktail on her other side, engaging in a lighthearted conversation with someone she's never paid attention to at their workplace before, and Santana doesn't want her to catch her complimenting girls, but she doesn't even want to talk about them. She doesn't care about them. But she is doing a pretty good job at pretending she does, carefully though.

Noah doesn't care all that much anyway.

His brain cells are occupied with leering, and thinking of getting his dick wet tonight, so Santana doesn't have to try that hard.

She can even catch glimpses of Brittany's conversation, and watch as her hand taps her thigh sometimes. She wonders if it's an unconscious move or Brittany is trying to send her a sign, but she settles for the explanation that she just drank too many of those premium tequila shots. When Brittany excuses herself to the bathroom, and shoots her a raised eyebrow over her shoulder when leaving, she thinks she gets it.

It was a sign after all.

And Santana can't wait to see what she is planning for tonight.

Her whole body starts vibrating when Brittany returns and grabs her hand to lead her on the dance floor. Maybe it's just too much alcohol, but she likes how their hands fit together, different sizes, and feels, and colors, but Brittany lets go when they are in the crowd. She misses her touch, but not for long.

Brittany's hands settle on her hips, and she swallows hard when they start moving.

She is seducing Santana, with batting eyelashes, and parted pink lips, and a hot breath dancing around her face. She is being teased, manipulated, seduced and Brittany is driving her senses overload.

It's too much but not enough at the same time, and she almost acts on her wish to have her, there and now, when someone grabs her attention.

And it's the worst person.

"Brittany! You are here! I haven't found you…like anywhere. Oh my God, you have to come with me now!" Sugar yells through the loud music, not caring that there is someone three inches from Brittany's face, almost puckering her lips and poking her tongue out. There is someone and that is Santana.

Sugar doesn't care a slightest bit and she wants to tell her to go fuck herself, but then she feels that the thumbs on her hipbones are not there anymore.

Brittany gives her an apologetic look, and she is dragged away from her into the crowd.

She stares at her with a frown which she is not sure will ever be able to wipe off her forehead, and she is about to head to the bar to mull over what just transpired here, when Noah steps into her way out of nowhere.

"Jeez, I haven't found you anywhere. You have to check this out"

Her frown just deepens, but he puts his hand around her shoulder and guides her through dozens of people to a little circle near the edge of the dance floor.

There's someone moving in the middle, and she catches sight of blonde hair and for a second her blood stops flowing in her veins thinking the girl giving out a show is Brittany.

She is not.

Of course she is not.

It's just a blonde girl, with a bunch of girls and boys watching her.

She is dragged further, until Noah stops abruptly.

"That's Marley over there" Noah says, leaning close to her ear. "Looks like a tough one to break, but I feel up for a challenge tonight." He points his chin towards a brunette girl, who is mediocre in her eyes but maybe she is just comparing everybody now. She looks too rigid, and controlled, standing out of the crowd like she feels she doesn't belong here. She reminds her of someone, and she looks at Noah's face. The strange look in his eyes just proves she is thinking of the right thing. Marley or what she is even called…is just a mediocre substitute of Rachel.

"I picked someone for you too, just in case…" He snaps his eyes away from the brunette and searches in the crowd, while Santana is trying to put her jaw back in place. "Oh there she is, a wild one. That's Kitty for you" He smirks, pointing towards a blonde girl.

The blonde girl who is now joined by a taller guy in the circle of people they've just passed.

They are grinding into each other, and she feels disgusted.

There's nothing hot about the girl, neither her blonde hair, or her boobs, or her ass, they don't make it for her. She's her type, she is exactly the type of girl who Santana is used to be hooking up with and throwing away after one use only. But the prospect of hooking up with this girl tonight is making her disgusted.

To hook up with anyone apart from one person is making her disgusted.

She can only shake her head at Puckerman, because no words leave her mouth.

"She is not interested" A fierce voice hits her from behind, and then a split of a second later, Santana is turned around to meet blue eyes before wet lips kiss her hard, Brittany proving her point when she kisses her back.

She really is not interested and she couldn't have said it better. She is not interested in any other blonde, or brunette or red or black or grey or purple for that matter. She is not interested in anyone apart from Brittany right now.

The look on Noah's face proves the kiss stands for itself. No more words are needed on her part.

But she still has doubts about Brittany.

"What about you?" She snaps her eyes onto Brittany's face from Noah and searches her eyes.

Brittany frowns at her question and leans closer.

"What about me?"

Santana shrugs, because she would hate to acknowledge her jealousy out loud, but she can't contain it anymore. If her suspicion is true, she wants to know it now so she can try and get over it sooner.

"You and Sugar…" She trails off, shrugging her shoulders because it should be obvious what she is thinking about.

Brittany chuckles subtly, before pushing her hand to her mouth while Santana is frowning at her indignantly. Brittany just dared to laugh at her, when she tried to do the mature thing and actually talk about stuff, however pathetic it all is coming out now. Brittany senses her displeasure with her reaction and leans in to kiss her cheek, while her hands settle gently on her waist.

Santana loosens a bit at her touch, but she is still waiting impatiently for an answer.

"Me and Sugar is like…you and Kitty, minus I've actually talked to her in my life" Brittany says teasingly, and she huffs, snapping her eyes to the side.

"You are mocking me"

Brittany chuckles again and hugs her closer until she is wrapping her into her arms, and it gets harder and harder not to look at her by the second.

"Because you are being silly" Brittany whispers into her ear and lays another kiss there, then she trails a path to her temple and her mouth settles on the skin there.

"I'd just rather know if you wanted to hook up with someone else…'cause you're allowed of course. You are free to do whatever you want" She says quietly, and she is not sure Brittany even heard what she said over the loud music, until she pulls away and tilts her head to the side, like a kid thinking of what to ask for Christmas.

"Whatever I want?" She asks shyly, and Santana casts her gaze on her face.

She nods slowly, and her heart starts beating just a tiny bit faster, while Brittany's mouth is slowly turning into a smile.

"Then come home with me tonight"

* * *

_**Thank you for reading!**_

_**Please review if you have anything to say, or any questions or wishes! I appriciate every word.**_

_**The next chapter will signal the end of Part 1 of this story, andthen we are onto Part 2 and 3, so it's exciting stuff ahead.** **Major stuff is happening in the next chapter, stay tuned!** _


	11. Part 9

**Author's note: **

_Dear__ readers! Happy New Year to you all! Sorry for not updating for so long, but here I am, trying to make it up tp you by publishing a 19k long chapter. _**  
**

_This chapter is a breaking point in this story. I know that more and more people turn to fanfiction, because the show is such a disappointment it makes Brittana shippers give up on it. So the timing of this chapter might not be perfect, because it's pretty rough, but I ask every one of you to trust me. I know what I'm doing here.  
_

_Unfortunately, I don't think I'm gonna be able to update until the end of the month, because I'm having finals. In the meantime, I'm writing a fun little story called "_The best prize_", check it out if you miss my writing! _

_With all being said, I hope you stick by this story through the end! _

_Thanks to my new beta, StCharles for helping me perfect this chapter!  
_

_Enjoy and tell me what you think, or feel about it!_

_* emmanuelle-s. tumblr. com *  
_

* * *

**Part 9**

She can't believe she swore not to do this ever again.

Now it feels almost natural.

Still a bit weird and inappropriate for her, but sort of a natural aftermath.

Letting someone fall asleep on top of her body is something she would never have thought of doing until she met someone who enjoys doing it very much and got to like that someone enough to try overcoming her fear of letting another person too close. Intimacy is not something she's had the possibility of practicing for a long time. Never having a constant sexual partner, she doesn't have a clear idea of how she's supposed to handle this. The sex, it's easier now that she's getting in touch with her feelings about it. It's easier to let go now that she's realized she wants to give herself to Brittany.

It's the only way to show her feelings.

The feelings she's been trying so hard to repress and deny, but learned to accept.

She accepted that she has developed feelings for this girl, whose damp hair is sticking to her chin, whose warm breath is hitting her collarbone, whose tight muscles are still wrapping around her fingers and reminding Santana of the way her heart fluttered when she came for her.

This, the aftermath is still hard to handle though.

Considering the status of their relationship and the rules they agreed to, she doubts that she is even supposed to be in Brittany's bed. But Brittany asked her to come, and she wasn't really in the position to say no.

And she wouldn't have been able to anyway.

Staying after though, it's a completely different thing, but something she's got used to through their numerous encounters in their favorite motel room. They've been hanging out, like friends, who occasionally exchanged mind-blowing orgasms with each other.

It was pretty hard for her in the beginning to act like a friend with Brittany, just minutes after she went down on her, but soon she started to enjoy being together with her apart from sex. She tried to let go not just physically, but mentally too.

Of course it was pretty hard, considering she had to constantly be aware and ready to lie when it came to questions and the huge mysteries of her life.

But she really feels like she's improved a lot.

She's been opening up, and revealing more of herself than ever before.

She really feels like she's becoming friends with Brittany.

But having Brittany sleeping in her arms after they've had the most wonderful sex, Santana's starting to wonder if they've become more without either of them realizing and she really wouldn't have thought of letting this ever happen to her.

This whole thing really shouldn't have happened, but she's let it happened, and now it's starting to overcome her. Something that never should have meant anything, has started to have meaning.

Sex now means something.

Sometimes…everything.

/

For a second, she feels like she's still dreaming when she rouses into consciousness.

It's strange because she hasn't even realized she fell asleep and now she is waken by movement on her body and sound filling the air.

This can't be not real though.

When she opens her eyelids and is welcomed by the sight of Brittany on her elbows and knees, grinding into her hand, back bending and mouth hanging open, she knows she's not dreaming because a dream can't be naughty enough to make her feel she is gonna come just by witnessing something like this.

And she is pretty sure if Brittany continues riding her fingers for a few more minutes, she is going to come without touching herself.

It's an impossible choice now, whether to close her eyes and let Brittany finish, or take the sight in and risk that she'll stop. She knows just the feel of it will make her drip onto the sheets, but she just can't take her eyes off her. She is mesmerized by the sight of Brittany using her to make herself come, rocking her hips until Santana's fingers brush the spot inside her that makes her fall apart.

Santana knows her enough now to see that Brittany is close, and it really should just be seconds that she has to pretend sleeping, enjoying the needy moans hitting the air, and the hot fluid flowing onto her hand, and the warmth and pure desire that Brittany's body is oozing.

But it's too late to start pretending, and when Brittany finally finds that spot—her head falling back— their eyes lock the same time she clenches around Santana's fingers. Her blue eyes widen, in fear and embarrassment, and Santana watches her hesitating and trying to retreat, but it's too late now.

Brittany comes undone, her teeth biting down on her lip hard, forcing herself to keep the sounds of pleasure inside while her body shakes with the waves of her orgasm, and Santana is afraid to help her riding it out.

She is kind of afraid to move, or speak, or do anything really.

Brittany seems to share the same feelings, and seconds pass without either of them moving, and it's the weirdest thing that's ever happened to Santana after sex.

Brittany's hips are still trembling a little, and Santana has the urge to still them with her hands, but she is afraid pull out of Brittany, because that would mean acknowledging that she woke up to her masturbating and probably embarrassing Brittany further more. Brittany is gripping the sheets already to stop her body from showing how much she enjoyed it, and her face is flushing more than it should.

It's unfamiliar to see her act so self-conscious, embarrassed by what she's done.

And Santana knows she has to show her she has nothing to worry about.

That's why she slowly pulls her fingers out, careful not to hurt Brittany, and wipes them into the already messy sheets, while closely monitoring every reaction, every flutter of eyelids and every crease of eyebrows from Brittany. Santana is in touch with her abilities enough to know that she really shouldn't open her mouth and attempt to speak in this kind of a delicate situation, so she offers the only thing she can trust, her touch.

Her hands rise from the sheets, and she touches Brittany's back nervously. Brittany lets go of her bottom lip with her teeth, and her face reveals a handful of emotions as Santana's fingers settle on the low of her back and pull her down until their chests merge together.

Brittany opens her eyes, just an inch to catch a peak of Santana, when Santana's thumbs start drawing circles on her back.

Santana can't hold back her soft smile.

Brittany's usually been the stronger, dominating one in this relationship and Santana kind of enjoys being the supporting one now. And she just wants Brittany to see that what she's done is more than okay, in fact it's been the most amazing thing to wake up to.

"Hello beautiful" Santana rasps out, mouth dry from not speaking for long and the intense arousal that is still pressing in the pit of her stomach, and wonders how she managed to come up with such a lame greeting.

But maybe it wasn't that lame, because Brittany opens her eyes completely and the corners of her mouth turns a bit upward, into a bashful smile.

"Hi" She whispers, blinking away, but her smile widens as Santana brings her hands up to gently cup her jaw.

Brittany's skin is hot, burning under Santana's palms that usually get cold through the night, and her eyes reclaim a bit of confidence from the reassuring touch.

"What was that?" Santana asks curiously, never stopping her fingers stroking the blonde's cheeks.

Brittany's shoulders slump, and she spends seconds trying to find the appropriate words.

"You were like…crooking your fingers inside me, when I woke up…and I just couldn't help myself. I'm sorry," she shrugs a little.

"It's okay, believe me" Santana chuckles. "But I wasn't talking about that. You stopped when you noticed me…why?"

She doesn't sound demanding, but Brittany seems like she's just been hit with the exact question she's been trying to avoid.

"I thought you'd be angry." She says, uncomfortably.

Santana frowns, dropping her hands to Brittany's shoulders.

"Because you made my wettest dream come true?" She raises her eyebrows, but Brittany doesn't take the compliment well, she is still acting an awfully lot more reserved than usual. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing" Brittany blurts out, and a blink of an eye later, she is hiding her face in the crook of Santana's neck.

"Britt-Britt" Santana whispers, tilting her head and nudging Brittany's cheek, but all she gets back is a shake of a head.

She is really in the dark here. Brittany's never acted so weird around her, so insecure, needy and bordering childish as she is clinging to her. And Santana's far from being a great psychologist, to get her open up and talk about what's caused her to turn out of herself.

What she decides to be the best is to give her a little time, and a bit of comfort by stroking her back. Brittany seems to loosen up by her touch, and she raises her head to look at her after a minute.

"I just knew you'd want to leave when you woke up, so I just wanted to…you know, make the most of it…" She frowns at her own words, and continues lowly. "Um, this sounds a bit creepy…"

What grips Santana though, like a fist, is the thing Brittany said first, about her wanting to leave, and she tries to hide how upset she is by the accusation. She thought Brittany knew she's in a different place now. They are in a different place now.

She thought she knew.

Maybe Santana'd never be able to fully earn her trust, not without telling her the truth.

It makes anger rise inside of her, because it's not fair.

Life is not fucking fair, and Brittany makes her suffer even more.

Santana could convince her. She could tell her that she's changed, and how much this means to her now. She could tell Brittany that she has feelings for her. But her pride gets in the way, crushing every word that could make Brittany trust her.

Like always, she goes down the wrong way.

"You made the rules, Brittany" she blurts out harshly, pushing Brittany away by her shoulders. "And yesterday you made me come here, despite how it turned out the last time…and now we're fighting over the same damn thing again."

Brittany sits up abruptly and stares at her with wide eyes, Santana's words hitting her like slaps on the face.

"I'm sorry" she shrugs her shoulders, and tries to touch Santana, but she brushes her hand away.

Brittany's hurt is darkening her eyes, and Santana's own hurt is making it hard to stay in her place and not run away, like a shot animal with a bleeding wound. That Brittany is still straddling her hips is not making her case easier. But the tears brimming Brittany's blue eyes make her anger vanish, and the urge to comfort her overcome her pique.

"Can't you see how hard I'm trying here?" Santana whispers dejectedly, shaking her head.

She stares into space, avoiding Brittany's eyes because she knows nothing coherent would come out if she watched her cry.

Bitterness creeps up inside her, because she really thought this could work between them, but now she is starting to think she'll never be able to give Brittany what she wants. Brittany's words made her realize how fragile their relationship is, and how insecure she is about her part in it.

Only the light touch of Brittany's fingers on her neck brings her back to reality.

"I know. You are amazing…and I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Please believe me" Brittany pleads, her eyes flickering with the fear of crushing what they've been building in the past weeks. "Sometimes the words just come out differently than they should…I'm sorry, I'm just too stupid for you."

She shakes her head, expression pained and Santana's heart would break for her if it didn't just heal by her words.

Her life would really be freaking easier if she didn't automatically think of the worst. If she would hear people out before judging, if she would open her mind instead of letting her pride and temper get the worst of her.

"You're not stupid..." She exhales deeply, and takes Brittany's hand from her neck. She squeezes it lightly, offering peace. "I'm sorry that I got mad so fast.

"I didn't want to make you believe I'm not pleased with how we're moving" Brittany leans down, her eyes brighter, but there're still sadness and shame clouding the shades of light blue deep inside. "I just…these past days, they've been so perfect with you like a dream and I thought it would end somehow…sooner or later."

There is something comforting about the thought that Santana is not the only one afraid in this relationship. But there is something awfully sad that they can't be together in peace without worrying it will end, sooner or later.

Until there's a tiny chance that they can make it though, Santana will hope, because there's someone who taught her that in spite of how freaking unfair this world is, there is always hope.

"It doesn't have to end" she whispers, almost begging for Brittany to believe her.

Her words are weak, because the emotions are cracking them into syllables, but they find Brittany, and they are enough to get a grip on and hold onto in the storm of their fears. Santana is longing for her own words to be true and wishes the paradise of these past days would never end.

"Kiss me, please" Brittany breathes out, while bringing their clasped hands over her heart and Santana just knows Brittany believes her. The fast but steady beating of her heart shows Santana that she trusts her, and she lets go of Brittany's hand to push her palm to her bare skin, and feel it more, to feel it even closer to her, to hope that it's for her.

Brittany's hands slowly snake around her, and they embrace each other as Santana leans in to capture her lips in a kiss.

She gasps when Brittany opens her mouth to kiss her fully, tongue inside her mouth and pushes her shoulders, until they hit the bed, tangled into each other.

They are kissing for minutes, and Santana knows minutes make hours, and hours make days, days make weeks and months, and she hopes these minutes will make forever.

/

She is in a great need of a shower when they agree neither of them can take more sex.

Brittany offers her the use of the master bathroom, and after a long moment of contemplation she decides she'd settle for showering like a normal person this one time instead of rubbing her skin raw in a stainless steel cabin she owns at home. She says okay, and Brittany gets up to give her the most ridiculous fluffy bathrobe a person can possibly wear, trying not to break into a fit of giggles. She fails, of course, and Santana rolls her eyes at her before locking the bathroom door.

When she comes out, as clean as possible, her skin rubbed and itchy by the hot water, and hair in a tight bun, her dress and underwear are folded on the bed beside a crossed-legged sitting Brittany.

There's a white envelope in her hands, and she stops fumbling with it when Santana closes the door behind her with a click.

"You left this here earlier…" Brittany licks her lips, and her ears color with guilt that Santana tried to convince her she shouldn't feel when she confessed her she tried to investigate who Santana was.

The envelope is a painful reminder of an incident in their not so long-lived past, and Santana tries to brush off the anxiety that overcomes her when she recalls it ever happening. She tries not to think how things would have turned out if Brittany had found out. She just nods to acknowledge that she heard, not able to trust her voice to stay even if she spoke.

Instead she tries to concentrate on dressing up, but it's impossible when Brittany's eyes follow her every move. Turning away might seem stupid, but she seriously contemplates it.

Brittany makes the easiest tasks seem complicated.

"Would you stop gawking?" Santana blurts out, before she can filter her thoughts, but Brittany doesn't even blink.

She just drops the envelope on the bed, and crosses her arms, before slowly giving her a onceover that much to Santana's embarrassment, shoots a jolt of arousal into her core.

"Well, I can still taste you in my mouth, so I'm not sure what you're trying to hide…" Brittany shrugs her shoulders, and pokes her tongue out to lick her bottom lip and makes a humming sound, which makes Santana pretty sure showering was pointless between her legs.

"You really are the biggest pervert, Brittany Susan Pierce" She tries to sound disapproving, but her raspy voice can't hide how turned on she is by Brittany's bluntness.

"I just like watching you…among other things" Brittany clears her throat, and her sexual innuendo doesn't go unnoticed by Santana, who wants to shoot back but Brittany quickly silences her by standing up to come closer. "I don't think you realize how beautiful you are."

She grabs the waistband of Santana's bathrobe, and loosens the only barrier between their naked bodies, but Santana isn't thinking about sex right now. Even when the robe falls from her shoulders and hits the floor, she is still just staring into Brittany's appreciating eyes and trying to believe her.

"I'm not used to people telling me that" she whispers, looking away to hide the resentment she is feeling when she thinks about her past, and how her parents made her feel like she's a disgraced person growing up. They made her feel she could never be as talented, smart and beautiful as the valids around her.

And even though both boys and girls have lusted after her, nobody's ever truly made her feel like she is beautiful.

"That's one thing we share then" Brittany tells her, and Santana casts her gaze back to see her smiling sadly and she wonders how that could be possible.

She wonders whether she's not the only one hiding something that makes her suffer to this day, that makes her constantly question herself, her looks and her brain, everything. Maybe Brittany is hiding something too. The way she is calling herself stupid sometimes, and unworthy of Santana's attention hints at issues Santana never thought a person like her could have.

The gorgeous, loving, and brilliant person Santana has come to know her to be, even Brittany has doubts about herself. And somehow, Santana guesses, knowing why Brittany has them would make it easier to accept and uncover Santana's own past, and the truth about herself.

Maybe in time, she will be brave enough to ask.

/

Brittany walks her out when she is ready to go, and they spend seconds in silence before she gives Santana a hard kiss on the mouth.

Santana says goodbye, and walks down the path, feeling on her back how Brittany's eyes are following her like a shadow. She just left, but she is yearning to come back already. For some reason, she has a feeling it was a special occasion that she could spend the night and it makes her want to go back and crawl under Brittany's white sheets again. She felt safety and peace, the rarest things she's experienced in her life, and this morning, she felt like they could have a chance at happiness for even a little more while.

Even though her happiness could never be complete while she is keeping her secrets in the dark, Brittany makes her let go and feel happy while they are together.

When she climbs inside the cab though, and drops her bag on the other seat, she is reminded of the truth that's lying inside the white envelope.

The fact that the envelope is still closed just proves how unworthy she is of Brittany's affection.

It's a sick twist of life that Brittany feels the same way about her.

She turns around in her seat to look back, and Brittany is still there, in a blue shirt, watching her leave. She shoots her a soft smile, and hopes Brittany can see it from the distance. Of course she does, and Santana rolls her eyes inwardly. As a valid, Brittany would see her smiling even from the end of the street.

Brittany smiles back, but Santana doesn't have time to appreciate how beautiful she is when her face is glowing with a wide smile, because her vision is blinded by white light for a second and it ruins everything.

Another flash of light later, a black car is speeding up from afar, sending a chill down her spine and she watches it passing them fast, but still slowly enough for her to form a horrible suspicion. She catches only a glance at the man sitting inside, and it's not enough to know for sure it's the person she's most afraid of.

But the flashlights, the black car, it can't be a coincidence.

Or it is a coincidence, but that would mean life is playing a cruel and dangerous game with her.

With her and Brittany.

Because right now, she is starting to suspect that they are being followed by him and her rawest instinct to protect herself and Brittany is making her act without consideration.

"Follow the car!" She chokes out semi-conscious, eyes still glued to Brittany's face, who seems equally confused at the shockingly sharp turn of events.

When the cab is not moving under her a second later though, she cuts off their eye-contact and adrenaline rushes into her veins when she turns her head to the dumbfounded driver.

"I beg your pardon, Miss?" He asks, and she swears to God never to leave her car home again.

"Follow the damn car, you idiot!" She shouts at him, and climbs into the passenger seat clumsily, shocking the driver. "Now! Else you will regret it your whole life!"

They are accelerating a split second later and she is grateful for her ability to make people fear their lives with plain words. They already lost time, and the familiar black car managed to get out of sight, so Santana has to rely on her sixth sense to instruct the driver where to turn at the end of the wide street. She demands him to speed up and break the law, offering him her monthly salary if he manages to catch the sick person who's been following her and Brittany for a week now.

She has to catch the bastard. She has to know for sure who it is. Because if it's him, she swears on her own life that she'll kill him with her bare hands.

She fucking needs to know.

They find the car again, and she is yelling Spanish curses at the person driving it like her words would make the asshole stop and reveal who they are. It's the busiest time of the day on the road, and they have to slide between slower cars to keep up, until they hit the highway and the chase goes on without speed limit.

Santana's never been this grateful for the change in laws, and grips the handhold tightly on the side when they're bordering 150 miles per hour to stay close to the man in front of them.

Her heart is beating in her throat and she can barely see from the anger and fear that are clouding her vision, and her better judgment. She demands to go faster, and tries to blink the desperate tears in her eyes away when she is starting to realize they won't ever catch up. The distance is growing by the minute, and her yells turn into bargains, and then begs for the man to stop.

Her frustration takes over and she can't hold back the angry, choking sobs escaping her mouth.

The car gets out of sight, and she is pretty sure a bone in her hand breaks when she shoves her fist into the window.

They lost the car, and it's just now - when she is shaking by the force of crying - that she realizes how dangerous it was to follow it. She could have caused an accident, she could have ruined innocent people's lives, or she could have ruined her own life if the cops caught them.

And it would have been for nothing.

Schuester is crossing the state line while she is left here, sitting in this damn cab crying, her hand shaking from the stabbing pain, reminded that she could never have a chance for peace in her life until she is tied to him by the secret they share.

An evil man, but her only chance for this life.

/

Quinn squeals in shock when they meet at home.

"What happened?" She asks hurriedly, eyes wide and horrified. "Santana?" She demands, rushing close, but Santana stops her with a shake of her head, too tired to speak, and holds her hand to her chest. Something dawns on Quinn's face, and her expression turns darker, disapproving.

Like Santana caused her own injury.

Unfortunately, that's kind of true, but not the way Quinn probably assumes. Those times are over now.

"Did you get into a bar fight again? I swear to God, if you…"

"I didn't!" Santana yells to cut her off, because all she wants is for the questions to stop and time to still so she can find her inner peace again. "I didn't…" She repeats in a whisper, and Quinn's guilt is written all over her face.

She comes closer and trails her eyes all over Santana, and Santana has to force her gaze away not to fall apart under her best friend's sad hazel eyes.

"Okay, okay" Quinn whispers, and clears her throat. Santana knows it's a sign that she is trying to find the right thing to do. "Just show me your hand, please?"

Santana gulps and pulls her left hand away from covering her bruised one and hears Quinn wince painfully at the sight. She prays to God for the thousandth time that it's not broken and she knows Quinn is doing the same thing.

"We have to get you to a doctor…someone to take a look at it." Quinn tells her carefully, like she is afraid of her reaction. "I think it's not broken but still…" She frowns, touching her wrist delicately with her cold fingertips.

Santana pulls her hand away and shakes her head bitterly.

"Yeah let's go to a doctor! Maybe my blood will be drawn, and surprise…an invalid!" She tries to let out a dry chuckle, but it gets stuck halfway. "Or maybe I should just show it to Schuester, right?"

"That's not what I said, Santana. I'm not stupid" Quinn shoots her down and Santana stops fighting her, too exhausted and emotionally drained to voice the bitterness and anger she is feeling. "I'm gonna put some ice gel and a strip around it…please don't even try to argue with me!"

Santana nods slightly, and lets herself get dragged into the bathroom.

Quinn pulls down the toilet lid for Santana to sit on, while she dives into the cabinet to find the medical supplies they keep at home for emergency. Santana stares at her hand and shakes her head at her own stupidity to get herself into this mess.

Quinn turns back to her and touches her hand lightly, which makes her wince.

At least she can move it, but the sight is scary.

The ice soothes the stabbing pain even the slightest movement causes, and the strip Quinn wraps around her hand holds it tightly.

It has two days for the healing process, because when it comes to work, Santana could never show up with a sign of injury. At least Quinn can practice her make-up skills, she laughs inside, but it dies down quickly, leaving her with the feeling of an empty hole inside her chest.

"Do you want to talk about it now or…?" Quinn asks quietly, but firmly enough for Santana to know she can't escape giving her answers sooner or later.

"I just want to be alone, please" She tells her sincerely, not sure if it's a good idea to be alone with her dark thoughts, but sharing what happened would be too soon, the memories too fresh and scary for her to recall.

She just wants to be alone and replay in her mind how her day started.

It started out like a dream.

And now she feels like she's dreaming again, but it's the worst nightmare she's ever had.

/

Quinn knows everything by the time the sun starts setting.

Santana's hand is healing nicely, the swell working off and the pain easing up, but she still needs Quinn's help when she tries to handle eating like an adult, with a fork in her injured hand. They don't talk for a long while, just staring at their empty plates, and waiting for the other to start speaking. Santana cracks sooner.

She cracks completely.

She confesses everything to Quinn, from the moment Brittany invited her over last night until she stumbled into the apartment, tear-worn and injured. Quinn tries to convince her she is just being paranoid, and there's a slight chance she is right, but Santana has a feeling she is not. It can't be a coincidence. She wants it to be the most, but it just doesn't seem to be.

It feels more like a puzzle with the darkest picture, the black car parking when she sat in her car at Brittany's house, and the flashlights when Brittany left the motel after that amazing night they shared. And today it felt like the bastard wanted them to notice him, he wanted to scare them, and he managed to, pretty fucking much.

She is in such a mess, and she's dragged Brittany into it too.

Now it's not enough for Santana to protect herself, there is a more important thing from now on.

She has to protect Brittany.

Even at the cost of her own life.

/

She doesn't come out much from her room until Sunday evening.

The time spent alone does her good.

She's done a lot of thinking and realized that the best way to keep Brittany safe is to hide the information from her that might cause either of them trouble and act like nothing happened. At least until Santana knows more. She wouldn't want to scare her. Even if she has to lie more, she does it for her now.

That's the only way to keep her safe.

Quinn agrees, and Santana is grateful that she doesn't have to convince her. She is just too damn tired to do that. The rapid painkillers make her slow and sleepy, and when Quinn is finished covering her bruises with make-up to see if it's a good enough solution for work tomorrow, Santana is not sure whether she's just dreamed the whole thing happening or her best friend is that good at it. Her mood is lifted a bit, because now that her bruises can't be seen, there is one less thing to worry about.

"Quinn" She catches Quinn's wrist when she is standing up from her chair beside her.

Quinn looks at her stunned, and apprehensive of what is about to come out of her mouth. The air is still around them as Santana is trying to find the right words to voice her gratitude, but she just opens her mouth and stares at her best friend.

She is too weak.

And Quinn knows it.

Santana's hold on her wrist loosens, and she looks away to escape from her pity.

"Thank you" she whispers, her voice cracking.

Telling these words isn't easier as time is passing, days, months and years and Quinn is still standing by her side through everything. But these words mean more now, and Quinn knows it too. Santana means to say so much more behind them. She wouldn't last without Quinn, she just wouldn't survive in this world. Quinn's undying support keeps her strong enough to bear the consequences of her choice to live as a valid person and she keeps her sane, grounded even through the hardest of challenges life throws in her way.

Quinn draws her hand out from Santana's weakling grip, and squeezes her hand subtly. It says more than any words could. Santana knows it means they are in this together.

When Santana revealed her secrets to her best friends, they all made a choice. Since then, there's been no way out. They are in this together, her mess.

But it's different now.

Brittany is in it too, though she has no idea. It's not fair to her, and Santana knows it. That's why her heart feels squeezed into a tight fist, making it impossible to breathe freely. She feels choked by the guilt and she doesn't know how she will look into Brittany's eyes and not feel horrible ever again.

A lot more is at stake now than their relationship.

If he is the one following them, it could have consequences she doesn't dare to think about…not yet. But she can't not think of what it could mean to Brittany's life. Santana's been living at his mercy for years now, but Brittany is different. She didn't choose this kind of life. Santana dragged her into the mess and their relationship is wrong now on a completely different level. She tried to stop this relationship, she tried to cut it off and reason with Brittany.

But everything is different now.

She has feelings for her.

She's never felt it so strongly than this morning, when she watched Brittany's scared face after the black car passed the cab Santana was sitting in, dangerously close. Santana was afraid, and for the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid the most for herself.

Her feelings are so strong now that she can't stay away from Brittany.

She needs her.

And she has to find a way to be with her without ruining their lives. But is that possible?

Is it possible to keep lying and stay safe? Is it possible to lie to her face and then kiss her, honestly a second later? Is it possible to keep their relationship hidden but not make Brittany feel like she is hiding her? Is it worth it, the lying?

Is it right?

"I have to tell her." Santana whispers, the second she comes to the decision.

She is staring into space, trying to get in touch with the words she's just uttered and trying to convince herself she can do it, even if it means the end for her and Brittany.

It is the right thing to do.

"If you tell her, there's the possibility you're putting her in more danger." Quinn crouches down in front of her, and tries to reason. "We don't know what he is capable of…if it really was him."

"She has a right to know."

"Even if it might mean the end for you?"

"I would give up everything." Santana rushes the words out, with determination she didn't know she held in her heart. "She can't be hurt, Quinn."

"Please think this through again, Santana!" Quinn pleads, searching for her eyes. "There is still chance it wasn't him…there's an awful lot of cars like that on the streets and the lights? It could come from anywhere and not necessarily a camera. Please don't ruin your relationship with Britt until we know for sure!"

Santana shakes her head, hating how complicated this is. She is conflicted. Quinn is right, she should wait until they know more. But what if they don't find out for sure, ever? What if it's too late when she decides to act? They don't know what he is capable of, if it was him in the black car.

"I'm telling her by the end of the week…if there is a tiny chance it was him, I'm telling her."

Quinn nods up and down slowly, comprehending her words.

"Okay…okay" She breathes out softly, sounding like she's already bracing herself for the week in front of them.

Santana is already preparing for the worst scenarios.

But it's pointless, she knows it, she has to let go of her worries because they don't make her any good.

And she really should prepare for her speech tomorrow. In the middle of her turmoil, she completely forgot about it. But she has to get into the right mood and she is pretty far from being settled to think clearly and creatively now.

"How are you feeling about a glass of red wine?" She asks Quinn, breaking the heavy silence.

Quinn stands up slowly, and shoots her a soft smile.

"It sounds perfect."

/

They are settled in the living room, Quinn reading some ancient book, crawled up on the huge vintage armchair she brought with her when she moved in despite Santana's strong protest and Santana laid out on the couch with stacks of paper covering her and the coffee table. Some used scraps of paper lie on the floor around her.

She's writing the fifth version of her speech, but she is still not entirely pleased. She lets out angry huffs once in a while, earning disapproving looks from Quinn.

This one time, she looks her in the eye, and she feels something strange.

There is something else she forgot entirely.

"How was your date?" She blurts out, surprising Quinn, who looks like she's forgotten about her own date too for a second.

But Quinn's hard expression melts, and for the first time since she came home, Santana can see the worry truly disappearing from her face. Quinn gracefully places her marker in the book, and puts the book down, before standing up to sit on the couch beside Santana's feet.

"It was lovely…okay, it was kind of amazing" She admits with a faint blush, smile widening as she seems to recall the events of her night with Michael. "He brought me flowers…and he took me to this weird place downtown. It was a film theater, and we watched a classical drama...he told me he memorized my favorites when we talked about them once, like four months ago."

She looks like she still can't believe it.

"Is this guy even real?" Santana whispers to herself, because this just sounds like the most romantic first date she could imagine. Of course it's damn cheesy and missing the fancy factor she's used to, but it is just kind of perfect how it is.

"I know…" Quinn sighs, and they both take a moment to wonder how a guy like Michael exists in this world. "I think he got a bit nervous though…towards the end. Like he was worrying that it wasn't enough, so he offered to take me to a restaurant or a bar, if I wanted to."

"So where did you go?" Santana asks with rising curiosity.

"We bought hot-dogs at the corner." Quinn chuckles.

"In my head it was a mysterious Chinese restaurant he brought you to familiarize with his culture, but feel free to go on" Santana waves with her hand and Quinn giggles like a schoolgirl who's just been on the first date of her life.

"So we ate hot-dogs while taking a walk, and he held my hand, and it was amazing. People stared at us, and I think he got embarrassed about how he looked beside me…but I didn't let him pull his hand away"

"Aw" Santana coos, imagining the couple holding hands like love-sick puppies licking each other's faces.

"Yeah…um, then he drove me home of course…" Quinn shrugs her shoulders, like this is the least exciting part of the story "…and he kissed me good-bye." She raises her voice a bit at the end, and Santana frowns at her strange behavior.

"And…that was that? You didn't invite him up?"

Quinn exhales slowly, and raises her eyes from her lap to look at Santana again.

"I did…but he declined." She admits reluctantly, and crosses her arms around her. She looks ashamed of what happened, and Santana is trying to figure out what to say to make her understand it is okay.

"Like a true gentleman." She tells Quinn, because for some ridiculous reason, for her it's obvious. She seems to just get Michael. "Quinn, there is nothing to worry about."

"But what if he thinks it was inappropriate that I asked?"

"Did he look shocked at your ungraceful attempt to violate his innocence?" Santana raises her eyebrows high behind her glasses.

"Shut up" Quinn rolls her eyes at her, but lets out a faint chuckle anyway.

"I'm being serious here. Look, you know I had my fair share of sex on the first date…in fact, I only had first dates in my life if you know what I mean…but when I was younger, I always imagined that…if I ever got a real girlfriend, I would wait…out of respect, and to show that being with her means something and shouldn't be rushed. You should sleep together when it feels right, for both of you and you should stop worrying and just let it happen, 'cause it will, believe me. You are just not one to deny for long."

"Wow, you're making me blush here."

"That's just the plain truth" Santana shrugs her shoulders, and settles back to rest against the arm of the couch. Quinn mulls over her words for seconds, and Santana almost gets back to writing her speech when she speaks up.

"What about you though? You said you imagined you'd wait if you got a girlfriend…what changed?" She asks quietly, and the question hangs in the air like a dark cloud.

Santana gulps, because facing her past is always hard.

"I thought nobody would ever want to date me"

"Santana" Quinn shakes her head, her expression full of pain and pity.

"It's true. So I gave up and used girls only for sex." Her blatant honesty is not shocking for Quinn, who understands Santana's past and how it has turned her into the person she is now.

"Is it how it started out with Brittany, too?" Quinn asks carefully.

"Yeah…" Santana replies on instinct, but stops herself to mull over the question some more. "No, I mean…it was meant to be a one night stand, but it didn't feel like it. When she touched me, it was new and exciting, but also…familiar. Nobody's ever made me feel like how she did before. And it scared me..." She admits quietly.

"She did turn out be a lot more though, didn't she?"

"Uh-uh, yeah" Santana raises her head and smiles softly at Quinn.

However bad their situation is, she can't hide the fact that Brittany means a lot to her now. Quinn searches her eyes for something, and it's one of the rare occasions Santana lets her see into her.

"Santana…do you feel something for her?" Quinn asks breathlessly.

Santana feels it's the moment of truth, but she's not sure what she is supposed to say. She can't give her an easy answer, because nothing is easy, nothing is plain and simple, everything is complicated.

"I feel…everything. I feel angry, and scared, and jealous…hurt." Her voice weakens as she counts the things she's felt for the past weeks, and looks at Quinn with hope that her answer said everything.

"All these bad things?"

"Are they bad?" Santana asks sincerely, before trying to explain. "I just feel angry, when she calls herself stupid. I feel jealous when she looks at another woman…so jealous I feel like I could explode. I feel scared when I think about something bad happening to her…and it hurts me that I can't give her what she deserves. Is that not how I should feel?"

She's never experienced having feelings for someone…romantic feelings or whatever people call them.

She has sure as hell never felt these things, which is why it's so scary and amazing at the same time...

"I feel these things too, but…" Quinn shrugs a little and her mouth turns into a gentle smile. "I feel that my heart skips a beat when Michael smiles at me and I forget about everything else. How do you feel when Brittany smiles at you?"

Santana stares into her lap and tries to remember how she felt when Brittany smiled at her the last time. She recalls the moment. It's crystal clear, Brittany standing on her doormat, watching her leaving…she was smiling at her.

"Like I'm everything people made me believe I'm not." Santana whispers. "Like I'm smart…like…like I'm the most beautiful person in the world. Like I am someone…who deserves to be loved." She chokes on the last words, her emotions getting the better of her, and Quinn squeezes her bent knees supportively.

"I think…it's pretty safe to say you two have feelings for each other." Quinn says with a smile in her voice.

"I'm so afraid to tell her…" Santana raises her eyes at her, admitting her deepest, all-consuming fear.

But Quinn's smile doesn't waver.

She looks like she believes their feelings can conquer it all.

"Everything's gonna be all right." Quinn tells her, and Santana believes her for now, because sooner or later she knows it will be impossible.

/

The speech turns out to be a masterpiece with Quinn's help.

They formed a great team in this challenge. It was fun. They competed to come up with the cheesiest expressions. Santana even practiced the speech in front of her mirror late into the night, just like her own mentor, Rachel Berry would have done. Of course Santana would never admit it, but Rachel's ridiculous things are really helping her these days.

When the trainees finish clapping and whistling, much to her amusement, she asks them to introduce themselves in a few words and she isn't surprised when a familiar blonde girl raises her hand first.

"I'm Kitty Wilde." She says, and Santana can barely contain her giggles. So this is the girl she was meant to fuck, good to know Puckerman picked her a 'wild one'. "I graduated summa cum laude from the USC Academy."

At least it turns out, she's academically intelligent, not that it really means anything since Santana stopped going to school at sixteen and here she is, judging these bunch of losers from her seat at the head of the table.

The girl is arrogant and full of herself, but they will break her in, that's not even a question. Her summa cum laude means nothing here, but Santana lets her and the other nine hope their academic achievements or their genetics really guarantee their success. They have to learn for their own that the only things that matter here are hard work, sheer will and humility.

That's what Sue Sylvester taught her.

Sue's speech was inspiring, like always, and it made her remember her first day vividly. She came here full of hope and eagerness. She was raw, because she survived a lot of things in her life and she was full of wounds. The others around her seemed different, but it turned out they weren't that much after all.

They all had their fair share of crap in their lives, in their family, school or love life.

But Santana didn't know it back then. She felt out of place and it made her all the more determined to be the best, following her mentor's footsteps. She didn't like Rachel, because she was annoying, nosy, and sometimes too hard on her. She wanted Santana to be perfect and when she failed, she hated to see the disappointment on her face.

But every time, she became stronger, and more inspired to improve, until she was damn near perfect and better than everyone else, even Quinn, who came here as the Kitty of her class, the perfect American girl with the perfect academic record.

Kitty reminds her of Quinn, though Quinn would probably choke her to death if she dared to compare them. Santana has to wait and find out if Kitty is just the same sugar-coated nothing she thought Quinn was at first sight, or she is more. Because if she is anything like Quinn, they're damn lucky to have her here.

"You were pretty motivated then. Why did you choose to be an astronaut?" Santana asks, narrowing her eyes at the younger girl.

She seems sincerely surprised by Santana's question and a bit disturbed, like she wasn't prepared to reveal more than she said about herself.

"I…" She hesitates, and lowers her saddened eyes into her lap, making Santana's curiosity rise. There is something going on with this girl behind the façade, that's at least one thing they share. "Um…my parents wanted me to."

Santana is not surprised to hear that. It is just the way things work in this world. Somehow parents think their kids are obligated to do what they want them to, just because they gave them an excellent genetic quotient. Especially the richer ones—in Santana's experience, they are even worse.

She can't stop herself from directing another question to the girl.

"Did you want the same too?"

Kitty's eyes shot up from her lap, expression bordering offended as she bores into Santana.

"Of course." Her words cut through the tension-filled air like a sharp knife right into Santana's throat, but she is not someone Kitty can scare away by her penetrating stare or chilly tone.

Santana might have not been fair to stir up the shit the girl's hiding, but she was genuinely curious about her motives to be an astronaut. She is interested in all these ten young people.

"Is there anyone who came here for a different reason?" She turns her attention towards the others, but nobody's answering her question. They are all afraid of her already, she muses inwardly. "Don't tell me you're all trying to make mommy and daddy proud…" She chuckles mockingly, but she only earns a couple of headshakes and she gets fed up with the silence pretty quickly, so she picks out another familiar one. "You over there, Marley Rose, isn't it?"

The doe-eyed brunette from the party seems equally surprised and frightened that Santana addressed her with a question.

"You know my name?" She stammers the question weakly, but seems to regret it instantly.

Santana rolls her eyes.

"Okay guys, it's time to get real now." She exhales deeply, before rolling up the arms of her tight blazer. It's time the kids learn something, the sooner, the better. "First rule: don't ever question the knowledge or preparation of your superiors!"

Marley's cheeks blush and Santana doesn't hide her satisfaction. She is having a great time welcoming them into this world one by one. Rachel would have probably interrupted her fun game by now, so she is pretty grateful she is not here.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Now we all thank Miss Rose for reminding me of rule number two." Santana raises her voice to cut off the shy girl, and few of them laugh weakly. "Don't cut me off! Let me finish what I mean to say, because nothing you say could be more important, ever. Unless you tell me you discovered a ninth planet in our Solar System." They laugh more freely now, and she is happy to lighten the mood a bit. "So…Marley Rose, what should we know about you?"

The brunette clears her throat awkwardly.

"I was born in Seattle and…my father died when I was four months old." She says quietly, but her words are heavy in the silence. "My mother raised me alone and I came here to have a chance for a better life."

"Is it better now?" Santana asks and Marley looks right into her eyes.

"I'm not sure…"

She blinks away, embarrassed at her answer, but Santana actually appreciates her honesty. It doesn't mean she will let go of her that easily though.

"Millions of people would give up everything to sit in your chair." She turns her attention towards the others, trailing her eyes on their faces. They are just a couple of years younger, but they are all kids to her. "Every one of your chairs. You have a chance to make history here, to achieve things that bring you fame, honor, appreciation…everything a person in your position could dream of."

"What about happiness?" A handsome guy she hasn't paid much attention to so far stuns her with this simple, yet so complicated question.

She swallows hard, before deciding to turn the question against him.

"What makes you happy, Mr.?"

"Mr. Lynn. I'm Ryder Lynn." The boy smiles, and there is something about him that makes it impossible to be hard on him. An innocent, almost childish demeanor, the way he is looking at her and the way he is speaking. He reminds her of Sam and Brittany.

"So what makes you happy Mr. Lynn?" She asks him again.

"Family, friends…I guess…and my dog." He giggles with everyone around them, and even Santana can't hold back the smile tugging at her lips. "And love, of course." He finishes simply.

Love, of course, is what people want to find. But would he give it up to be here? Would he choose the way she did, giving up her chance for true love to live like a valid, to escape?"

Would any of them?

Would Brittany?

"I assume you left your family and your dog behind when you came here, so you wish to find friends and love here?"

"Yeah" the boy nods up and down with determination. "Did you find these things here?" He asks carefully, and she forces her eyes away, staring at the door that parts them from the people who mean the whole world to her.

She can't fall apart from the weight her words carry now.

"I did."

/

There are some interesting ones among them, she has to admit.

Kitty, Marley, Ryder and Wade, they all seem to have hundreds of layers she can't wait to uncover. They all have stories. They all carry stuff.

They are all like her in a way.

The last one of them is a tan guy, short brown hair, puppy eyes and muscles everywhere and a smirk that just stirs something inside her.

An odd feeling of familiarity.

He hasn't said anything so far, and looks at everyone with a kind of indifference and conceit that reminds her of her own behavior when she first came here. This kid is a rough one. He must have hell of a story.

"So who should we welcome as our tenth trainee?" Santana asks, and the silence following her question makes the hairs rise up on her arms.

There is just something about this guy, she can feel it.

Something that means trouble.

"Jake Puckerman."

He tells them, and she swears her heart skips a beat.

/

To spend more time in the presence of Noah's possible brother is one of the hardest challenges of her life.

She can't think straight with questions popping up in her brain by the second.

Is he or isn't he, that's the most important one and there is only one way to find out.

/

It's a pretty big understatement to say that Quinn is shocked.

They spend minutes comprehending the situation in a cleaning closet, and the silence is killing Santana. She's had enough of fucking surprises for these past days, and it's just question of time as to when Santana will crack.

The uncertainty is making it already too hard to breathe.

"We have to find out." She peals from her seat at an empty box, intruding Quinn's thoughts. "If Jake is Noah's brother, we have to know."

"Do you think he knows he has a brother at all?" Quinn stares at her, and Santana shakes her head.

It would be easier if that was the case.

"We are not that lucky." She whispers sadly.

But times like these, she thinks they are not lucky at all.

/

She tries to stay away from everyone through the rest of the day and leaves work pretty early for her standard, around seven she's already driving fast on the highway towards home.

She can't escape them forever though.

Brittany calls a bit later when she is preparing to leave the house with Quinn. Santana reluctantly picks the phone up, thanks to Quinn's insistence.

She can't stop thinking about what happened Saturday while they talk. The rational and emotional parts of her are making it difficult to do the right thing. She tells Brittany she has stuff to do, and she is not even lying. She is going to the sequence lab with Quinn to find out who Jake Puckerman is.

Brittany is disappointed and tells Santana she misses her already.

It's one of those things that make something blubbering up in Santana's throat and she ends up insisting to meet up later in the motel. Maybe it even works for their advantage that they go there separately, later when it's dark.

When Santana says goodbye to Brittany, Quinn looks at her with proud eyes.

It makes her believe she might really do the right thing.

/

Brittany can see it the second Santana enters the room and their eyes lock.

She has a sixth sense when it comes to most people, but especially Santana. She doesn't ask at first, because she also has this thing to see right through people and sense when it's time to give them space and when it's time to ask.

She kisses Santana softly, and pulls her down to straddle her hips on the bed. Santana breathes into the kiss, and inhales deeply, Brittany's scent filling her nostrils and she urges to get rid of their clothes. She pulls away and feels hunger overcoming her as she rips her own shirt open and unclasps her bra. Brittany looks at her with growing astonishment, but it doesn't stop Santana from diving under her shirt to cup her breasts roughly and kiss her neck, leaving marks on her pale skin.

Brittany gasps into the air, and pulls her closer by the waist, until their bodies touch in every possible place.

Clothes disappear quickly, and Santana is writhing under Brittany's body with consuming need. She doesn't want to take it slow today. She just wants to get off.

She is about to explode when Brittany starts twirling her tongue around her nipple, and she pushes her head downwards, not hiding what she wants Brittany to do. Brittany raises her head to look up at her and she blinks away, widening her legs and tugging at Brittany's hair.

"What's wrong?" Brittany chooses this moment to ask, and Santana answers on pure instinct.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me!" Brittany demands firmly, and Santana forces her eyes to look at her.

Brittany looks hurt, but Santana can't make it better now, not when her need for release is overcoming everything else. She strokes her hair and shakes her head, hoping Brittany will let it go for now.

"Britt…" She begs quietly, tugging at her head again. "Please, just…please"

For a second, she thinks Brittany might stand up and leave her there, naked in bed and alone, but she doesn't, she stares at her strangely before cutting off their eye-contact to adjust Santana's legs on her shoulders.

Santana exhales deeply when Brittany lays the first wet kiss on her inner thigh.

And she forgets everything when she feels the tip of Brittany's tongue enter her.

/

"I'm sorry"

She tells Brittany when she catches her breath enough to speak. Brittany looks up at her, resting her chin on the damp skin of her navel and shrugs her shoulders a little. It makes Santana regret not talking to her when Brittany wanted to.

"It's okay" Brittany smiles faintly, but she glances away when she continues. "But I just wish you could talk to me more instead of…you know."

Santana nods, because she wants the same thing.

She wants to change, but it's hard.

"I know that, but this is who I am…and sometimes I just need to forget. This is the way I'm used to…"

Brittany snaps her eyes back at her.

"You use sex to forget?"

"Um, yeah, it's the best kind of stress relief."

Brittany frowns, and Santana knows it's too late to put her feet into her mouth. She always ruins it, she can't stop herself. She is just not able to pick the right words, when it matters and she ends up hurting Brittany.

"Is that how it is with me, too? You use me to forget about your problems?" Brittany stares at her painfully, her voice faltering at the end of her question.

"No, no, that's not true." Santana rushes to explain, but the words are stuck inside her. She releases a deep breath, before tugging at Brittany's shoulder to pull her until they are face to face. "What I want to say here is that…sometimes I need your touch so much more than anything. It makes me feel better than anyone or anything else could."

Brittany's affection is worth the effort of squeezing these words out. She leans in to nuzzle Santana's nose, and Santana is close to cracking entirely. But she is afraid to say too much. Hell, she is afraid to find out more of what she is feeling, because she is afraid so much. But at some point, she has to face her fears.

"That sounds a lot better" Brittany kisses the tip of her nose and smiles at her brightly.

Santana can't bear her own feelings looking right back at her, and pulls her into her neck.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel otherwise." She whispers into her ear after seconds spent in silence, enjoying the scent and warmth of each other's body. "But you are special to me, Britt, you have to know that. Even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes, being with you means something for me, every time."

Brittany's breath hitches and Santana buries her face deeper into her soft hair, too afraid she might want to look at her.

But Brittany just gets her.

She only kisses her neck before breathing into Santana's ear.

"You are special to me, too."

/

Quinn is not mad when she confesses she told Brittany.

She doesn't even seem surprised. Maybe Santana is that predictable nowadays. She doesn't really like that.

They agree to tell Noah together but it has to wait until tomorrow. Today was a hell of a day already for both of them, but especially Santana. She hates how everything seems to happen out of her control. For a long time, trouble has stayed out of her life. Her life hasn't been easy, it's never truly been, but the last month was full of surprises, tears and trouble.

She is tired.

She wishes she could just sleep for a little while and only wake up when her problems have disappeared.

/

They pretend everything is all right at lunch.

It's damn hard, especially now that everyone knows about Jake at their table apart from Noah.

Quinn told Sam. Santana got mad, but nobody was surprised.

They share guilty looks, and Santana can barely force a bite down her throat. Quinn's smile has never been faker, and even Brittany seems more reserved than usual. For once in her life, Santana is grateful Noah is the most oblivious person she knows.

/

She tries to avert her thoughts all day.

She can't possibly prepare herself for telling Noah he has a brother he's never known, and she is pretty sure she can't possibly go through with it without alcohol in her system. This is just not something she can do sober.

/

"Rough day?"

Michael asks when she gulps down her tequila a second after the glass has been placed in front of her.

"Another" She rasps out, pushing it back towards him.

"I guess it is then."

/

"I can't believe this is happening."

Noah whispers, staring at them with horror.

They're standing in the living room and the dim lights suit the mood perfectly. The tension in the air is unbearable.

Quinn takes a step towards Noah, carefully, but he is like a wounded animal, breathing hard through his nostrils and eyes wide, unfocused.

"But how? Since when do you two know?" He demands, waving his hand at them angrily.

"He is a trainee…I met him yesterday." Santana explains quietly.

"And you haven't told me?" He spits.

"We had to know for sure." Quinn cuts in, trying to reason with him.

"Everybody else knew, right? I felt something was wrong at lunch but I thought I was stupid." Noah chuckles bitterly, and pushes his fist to his mouth. "But you made a fool out of me."

He drops his hand angrily and points in their faces.

"Noah, please calm down."

"Don't!" He takes a step towards them, and Santana leans closer to Quinn on instinct.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do!"

"Noah…" Santana pleads with him, but he shakes her head at her like she betrayed him.

"I need to get out of here…"

He whispers to himself, dropping his hand and standing still in his place for a second.

"Noah, please!" Santana begs him again, but it is of no use as Noah hurries out of the room without another word and leaves with a bang.

The sounds echoes in the apartment, and dead silence follows.

"It's okay…he just needs time." Quinn comforts her, but it doesn't make Santana's heart feel lighter.

"Do you think he will forgive me?" She looks at her best friend, and hopes she says yes.

"He loves you."

Quinn smiles sadly, and for once, Santana hopes love conquers it all.

/

Noah avoids her like a plague.

She is hurt, and she misses one of her best friends, but she listens to Quinn's advice and gives him space.

She can't bear the thought of him being alone though, so she asks Sam and Brittany to go after him and try to offer him comfort. Santana fears they might not be really successful, because in a way they were partners in her crime. But she catches them having lunch together, and her heart eases a tiny bit. He doesn't seem to talk much, but at least he is not alone. She wonders if he's met Jake yet or seen him without knowing who he was.

Maybe she will get to know something from Brittany later.

/

Brittany feels bad about it.

Of course she is one of those people.

She feels bad that she breaks Noah's trust by telling Santana what she knows, and Santana feels bad too for asking, but she just can't bear not to anymore. She gets to know from Brittany that Noah hasn't met Jake, but he tried to get in touch with his father, who left him and his mother when he was a kid. He couldn't find him yet, but he doesn't give up, even though Sam tried to convince him it's pointless to stir up the past.

It's better left untouched.

Sam and everyone else, they have a reason to think so.

Santana has a handful of reasons.

At least she knows what's going on, thanks to Brittany, even though the information doesn't make her feel better.

"You have to do something really nice for me in return." Brittany pouts at her, feeling equally dejected and Santana leans in to peck her pink, swollen lips.

"I'm sorry." She breathes into Brittany's mouth softly, wrapping her leg around her thighs. "I would make you pancakes but we don't have a kitchen here…"

There is something about cuddling with Brittany that completely rocks her world. It makes Santana feel calm, relaxed, like all the stress is vanishing from her body and she is left with the feeling of fuzziness filling her chest, spreading into the cavities of her heart. When she is holding onto Brittany, she is not afraid of the future.

When she is feeling her heart beat under her, she is not afraid of anything.

"You can make pancakes?" Brittany pulls away, voice rising in excitement, and Santana smiles dozily into the skin of her neck.

She is adorable.

Santana doesn't know another person who would be equally excited when talking about the little things of life, like pancakes. But pancakes are the greatest, Santana has to admit, especially pancakes with a lot of butter and honey on top, like the way she makes them.

Apart from sex, she knows only one way to make someone feel better and that's making something outrageously sweet for them.

"I can make the best pancakes you've ever tasted." She murmurs before letting out a sigh, and settling even closer. She really wants to fall into a slumber now, but Brittany pulls away slightly and she has no choice but to open her eyes again. "Why are you so surprised?"

Brittany is staring at her with that strange expression again, when she is trying to figure Santana out, but she can't.

Sometimes Santana is afraid to let her. She is afraid to get too close, when it all could end in a blink of an eye. They are still in danger; it didn't change just because there wasn't a sign of their stalker all week. It doesn't mean it was a coincidence. Santana is constantly in danger, because of her life choices, and as she is getting closer to Brittany, Santana is dragging her deeper into the mess.

But times like these, when all she can think about is how good she is feeling with Brittany, she lets go of her fear. She lets her see her.

"I just wouldn't have thought…do you cook?" Brittany asks, eyes full of curiosity.

She is staring at Santana like she just made a wonderful and exciting discovery about her, and she is eager to find out more. She is paying Santana unyielding attention, not to miss even a miniscule detail.

It's pretty unnerving for Santana to talk when she behaves like this and she finds she has to cast her gaze away from Brittany when she starts talking.

"Not that much I used to…" She shrugs a little, and recalls the times that came after she run away from home. It makes her throat tighten, because back then, she was a better person, full of hope for the future. "I worked in a diner for months. It was a shithole for a workplace, but there was this guy, David Martinez, and he got me into cooking."

David was a young Latino, in-valid and gay just like her. At twenty-two, he was one of the most intelligent people Santana's ever gotten to know, despite the fact that he left school at an even earlier stage than Santana. It just proves how little formal education truly means.

He was Santana's first friend in her life. Everybody around them thought they fucked, since neither of them dared to come out in that rotten environment, full of violence, bigotry and hate. It was safer for both of them to pretend they were together.

But Santana still brought a knife with her everywhere.

David had plans, many plans to get out of that dark place, and he tried to convince her to be his mate. She could have chosen that path. She was close, but something made her stay. Something that Brittany would call fate made her stay and go down a different path, a path full of dark secrets.

Still, she made it here.

She can only hope David made it too.

"Why did you work there if it was that bad?" Brittany asks, snapping Santana out of the reminiscence of her past.

Santana feels breathless when she comprehends the question and swallows hard.

"I needed money." She rasps out, and that uncomfortable feeling overcomes her instantly, which usually makes her run away.

It is too much of her past, and she takes a deep breath to place herself back into the present, where Brittany's arm is wrapped around her back and she is held tightly, protected from the monsters of her dark past.

"My mother never let me in the kitchen…so I don't know how to cook." Brittany blurts out awkwardly, and Santana has to close her eyes, because it makes her overwhelmed how much this girl gets her.

She doesn't know how to get used to it. She doesn't know how to get used to Brittany seeing right through her. But she is grateful Brittany knows what she needs. She knows exactly when to stop, when to let go and give her space. And she is trying to make it easier for Santana by remembering her own monsters. Santana knows there is something up with her mother, maybe her whole family.

Everything is so strange about them. They've yet to visit Brittany. And still, here she is, talking about her mother.

It makes Santana's heart ache.

"It's easier than you think." Santana tries to lighten the mood, because the air feels too heavy for her ragged breathing to handle. "I could show you a few things if you want sometime." She offers, shrugging her shoulders a bit before closing her eyes again.

Silence settles around them, and Santana hums contentedly. She is bordering on unconscious when Brittany's words snap her eyes open again.

"You should come over tomorrow and make pancakes for me in the morning."

Her heart starts beating at an awfully faster pace, and she raises her eyebrows, too shocked to form coherent words.

"Uh…"

She is not sure what just transpired here.

Is this the moment when she has to choose between staying friends with benefits and becoming more? Is this the choice Brittany just offered her here, wrapped into the innocent mask of a sleep-over and pancakes? What is this supposed to be? Is this a date?

She is not sure. She's never been on one or maybe she was, but she didn't even realize. Was that a first date when she showed Brittany her favorite place and they watched the launch together?

They almost kissed.

Santana should have kissed her.

She should have done a lot of things she didn't. She's never felt so strongly that she wants to have a date with Brittany. She wants it really badly, but she is not sure it's right to say yes, when everything is so fragile around them.

She is not sure it's right to say yes when she still hasn't told her.

Will it ever be right?

She is struggling to make up her mind and she knows the more time she takes the more she is hurting Brittany. Maybe it was just an innocent offer, and Santana shouldn't imagine it to be more. But somehow, she feels it is exactly what she felt, it is something more.

"Or you could show me when you're -" Brittany tries to backtrack, and her efforts to save Santana from the trouble of saying no makes her act.

"It's okay." Santana looks up at her, heart beating in her throat. "I can come over if you want."

She shoots her an awkward tight-lipped smile and leans in to kiss her. It's clumsy because Brittany just opens her mouth, when she tries to capture her lips.

But it's still perfect.

And she quickly forgets about all the questions popping up in her head. Maybe they are in for a date, or maybe they aren't. It doesn't matter. Words don't matter.

"Hmm" Brittany hums into Santana's mouth when pulling away, and it makes her light-headed. "I can't wait to taste your pancakes too."

/

While Brittany is in the shower, Santana spends minutes staring out of the window behind the curtain.

She feels like a paranoid. She feels like she is the one stalking others now.

She is monitoring the street, paying close attention to anything strange, out of place, a detail that could bring her closer to the truth. There is nobody out there, and considering the fact that it's well past midnight, she shouldn't be surprised. A few cars pass by, and her heart speeds up every time, but they are just regular cars, with regular people inside them.

When Brittany exits the room, and questions what she is doing, Santana mumbles something about watching the stars. It gains her an amused look on Brittany's face.

She waits out Brittany gathering her stuff around the room and dressing up.

She kisses her goodbye behind closed doors and whispers into her ear to take care of herself. Brittany looks at her with that strange expression again. A lot goes unsaid, before Brittany's mouth turns into a soft smile and she says goodbye.

Santana runs to the window after Brittany closes the door behind her, and watches her walk down the hallway, then the stairs until she crosses the parking lot and climbs into her car.

Everything stills after she leaves the parking lot, turning right on the street and speeding up.

Nothing happens.

And Santana prays to God it will stay this way.

/

Quinn is up when she gets home.

She is afraid something bad happened, because Quinn is never up past midnight.

"Noah called" Quinn rushes to tell Santana, whose heart is about to escape from her ribcage. "He wants to talk to you." Her mouth forms a soft smile, and it takes a second for Santana to grasp what she said.

She tackles her in a tight hug, and breathes into her hair. It smells like vanilla and flowers blossoming in the spring.

"Thank you." She murmurs, and hears Quinn chuckle.

She pulls away, snapping her eyes open to look at Quinn. She is smiling mischievously and Santana frowns at her questioningly, but Quinn just shrugs.

"Thank Brittany."

/

"Don't say sorry again!" Noah tells her for the hundredth time through their conversation and she rolls her eyes.

"But I still think I should have-"

"Coulda, woulda, shoulda…Santana, stop worrying about it!" Noah cuts her off. "We are good now."

Santana sighs, and tries to let it go.

Calling him was hard, because she didn't know what to expect. She was anxious, and she could barely form words in the beginning. Noah saved her by saying sorry for lashing out on her, and blaming her for what happened. They kind of competed who could say sorry more times. She is pretty sure she won.

But Noah is right, it's time to let go of it and concentrate on what's important.

"And how are you?" She asks him gently.

"Fine." Noah answers, and Santana can see him shrugging in her head. "It's just strange. I can't stop thinking about him when I'm at work."

Santana doesn't find this strange at all. It's really hard to forget about her own problems at work, but she has the ability to force herself with sheer will to concentrate on getting the job done.

"You haven't met, have you?"

"No."

"He looks a lot like you…and he owns that smirk, you should know that." Santana smiles into the phone.

"So he really is a Puckerman." Noah sighs.

"Yeah…" Santana sighs too, before contemplating her next question. She is not sure she wants to hear the answer, but she asks anyway. "What do you want to do?"

"I'm not sure" Noah says abruptly. "I'm not even sure if he knows about me. I couldn't reach my father. I had no idea he started a new family…" He lowers his voice, and Santana can hear the disappointment and grief laced into it.

"You couldn't find him?" She asks him.

"Well, I tried to…but I stopped. It was too painful, and I realized there was no point to bother the past."

Santana is grateful he came to his senses.

"I have a sense Brittany and Sam might've had a part in that…" She smiles a little, recalling how she asked their friends to take care of him.

"Britt told me things about her past. It made it easier for me…" Noah confesses and Santana's heart squeezes tighter knowing that Brittany made such an effort to support him.

"She helped me a lot and Sam, too. But you know he had it worse than us, so…I guess he just made me feel he had my back."

"Yeah…" Santana whispers, thinking of Sam and how his father treated him.

That man was a disgrace of a father.

There are scars on Sam's body attaching him to his past forever. But he is here now, surrounded by friends, though not entirely saved by the ghosts of his past. No surprise he is still in the closet. He was the one who first found love here, but it wasn't enough.

He wasn't brave enough for Kurt.

And Kurt still doesn't know about his father, the way he abused him. He almost beat him to death when Sam told him he was gay.

It's so sick and twisted that for a group of valids like them have suffered so much in this world which was created for them to have it easy, to be successful…to be happy.

They are meant to make it.

Santana is not, and she's lived her whole life knowing she is meant to have it hard. She has no idea how hard it is for Brittany, Quinn, Noah, Sam or Kurt to fail, even though they were all meant to succeed. For her, failure is implanted into her genes, but they are different.

They have to live their whole lives with the knowledge that they could have had it all.

They were meant to have it all.

But a certain moment came in all their lives that changed their fate. When Sam came out to his father, when Quinn and Noah slept together, when Brittany fell and broke her legs, everything in their lives changed.

Santana doesn't know which moment in her life was that certain moment…that changed everything.

When her grandmother told her to go on her deathbed, when she met Anita, when she first entered Schuester's office or the night she told everything to Quinn, Noah and Sam. Or maybe a moment that came later? Which certain moment is the one defining her whole life?

Could there be one at all?

"You know…" Noah cuts off her reminiscence and it takes a moment to get a hold on reality. "…isn't it strange that Brittany's only been here for like two months, but I can't really imagine our lives without her anymore?"

"Me neither." Santana sighs and it tells a lot more than words.

It's strange and not strange at all for her. Brittany has something that makes her feel like she's been here all along, with them, right from the beginning. But Santana is starting to realize everything would have turned out differently, if she had been really here.

"Yeah…I think she changed yours the most." Noah muses, and she can't argue.

Deep inside her heart, she wishes Brittany came into her life sooner. She wishes she came before she made the choice that's been haunting her ever since.

"She really did" She whispers, trying to hold back her emotions from breaking into the surface.

She is grateful for Noah's silence following her words. He just stays in line until Santana pulls herself together.

"I'm really glad you called." She tells him, with a faint smile.

"Me too." Noah replies. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow Lopez."

"Good night, Noah." She sighs happily, because for her, it already is.

"You too, darling."

/

She doesn't wake up because of the pain in her hand for the first time this week.

She opens her eyes to the rays of sun licking her face warm, and stretches her limbs so far, her feet poke out from the thick comforter. She hasn't felt so good waking up in the morning for a long time. She yawns into her hand and drops it on the bed. Her throat tightens, when she suddenly remembers she has a date tonight.

A date or whatever.

The thought makes her feel fuzzy inside, excitement and fear lacing together, and forming a tight knot in the pit of her stomach.

She takes a look at her hand, and releases a relieved breath, it looks so much better now. It's almost perfectly healed. It's one less thing to worry about. It's one less thing to lie about, since Santana had to come up with one to tell Brittany when she asked what happened to her hand. She is not sure Brittany believed her lame excuse, but it doesn't matter now.

The only thing that matters is that they have a date tonight.

And Santana has no idea how she will survive it.

/

It's a slow day.

And it's the first day all five of them have lunch together this week. Since she and Noah made up, their little group has merged together again and it makes Santana feel so much better. But Brittany's presence at the table doesn't exactly make it easy for her to relax.

Santana can't stop thinking about their night.

It's bordering unhealthy. Her head is full of jarring questions, about what to wear, what to bring, how to behave. She is not even sure it constitutes a date for Brittany, but she is too far down the line to think about that. And of course Santana won't ask her, she is not crazy, or maybe just not that brave.

So she tries to mentally prepare for anything, and she is pretty sure she will make Quinn go crazy at home before she steps out of the apartment.

/

She doesn't make Quinn go crazy, or maybe just a little bit.

The hardest part comes though, when she is all dolled up and supposedly ready to leave, the most expensive bottle of wine she's ever bought in one hand and her fanciest clutch in the other, but she just can't bear herself to leave.

So much is at stake tonight.

If she screws up, it could mean the end. She has a feeling whatever happens tonight will define them. In her relationship with Brittany, she is fairly sure this night will bring one of those certain moments that's called fate.

/

She is driving along the coast, enjoying how the waves of the ocean catch the moonlight and sparkle in the darkness. Jazz music is filling her car as she is going down the empty road.

No rushing, just her on the road in the late Friday evening.

She chose this road instead of driving on the highway, because she wanted to be alone with her thoughts, without the noise and people around her. She wanted to linger in this moment, cherish it, she wanted to remember all the good things that happened to her since she met Brittany. She wanted to relive all the memories.

She wanted to remember the first time she kissed her, the first time she touched her and every time after. The first time she felt something for her. The moment she realized.

And the moment she gave up fighting it.

The thought's been forming inside her ever since. This is the right way, the only way and she was a fool to pretend there was another choice. She tried to convince herself that she was protecting Brittany from herself, that she was doing it for her sake.

But what a fool she was.

She is telling Brittany tonight.

Everything.

/

She can almost see her house on the coast when something causes her to glance into the rearview mirror.

She frowns a little, and snaps her eyes back at the road.

It's just another car—but awfully similar to the one she saw the last time. There's nothing to worry about, she convinces herself, but her fingers still wrap around the wheel more tightly. The car is coming closer, closing the distance between them and her foot is pushing the pedal down with more force. She can't even explain why she is speeding up.

"It's just another car" She murmurs lowly to herself, like a mantra.

But her heart is already beating so loud it subdues the music filling her car.

It's just another car, until it isn't.

The realization sends a shiver down her spine.

"I can't believe this is happening." She gasps, panicked as fear overcomes her sanity.

She can't pull away, no matter how fast she goes, and the car is closing the gap on the road, cutting through the night sky as the death's dark horse. She is feeling it in her veins.

It is him.

It is Schuester.

Her horrible suspicion proves right minutes later when he looks her right in the eye through the mirror. It wasn't a coincidence at all. It is him and he is playing a cruel game with her.

He is catching up to her inch by inch, and she doesn't know what will happen.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She whispers, trying to calm down even though she is close to throwing up from the fear.

Her knuckles go white as her fingers grip the wheel like she is holding onto dear life. She forces her eyes to stay on the road, even when Schuester's car nears her and they are driving beside each other.

She tries to tell herself if she pretends he is not there, he will vanish into thin air and she will wake up from this nightmare.

She can't pretend though, when he bumps her car and she jerks to the side, her grip slackening on the wheel causing her car to lose balance. Schuester uses her lapse in control to pass her.

She can barely see from the desperate tears that escaped her eyes. He forces her to slow down, and she prays to God he is just scaring her.

"Please don't stop" She whimpers, afraid for her life now. "Please"

She contemplates trying to pass him, or doing a U-turn, or crashing into him hard from behind, but she is too afraid. She is too afraid to even breathe. She knows she can't escape him. Sooner or later she has to face him.

When he slows down so much they barely move on the road, she knows the moment has come.

/

She wipes her tears before opening the door.

She is too proud to appear weak in front of him, even though she knows she is. She is weak, beaten, and she has to yield now. She has no other choice. She sniffs, and smooths her dress with trembling hands, before finding the handle and taking a deep breath.

"Please help me now" She murmurs her prayer, blinking towards the black sky, before she exits the car.

The chilly air makes her shiver. She stumbles closer to his car, careful not to fall in her high heels. The lazy waves of the ocean stand as a dreamy background to this horrible scene she's acting out with Schuester. He is leaning against the side of his car and she hates how casual he is acting.

He slowly turns his head to her, and raises his eyebrows.

"My, my…Miss Perez, you are really pretty tonight." He gives her a onceover, slowly and conspicuously stopping at her legs and her chest. "It's such a waste we only meet in my office for our dates."

Santana wraps her arms around her torso, tightly. She is shaking, feeling cold inside and out. She feels violated by him.

He reminds her of the occasions she has to throw her dignity into the trash and serve him. It makes her want to spit her insides out.

"What do you want from me?" She chokes out, with as much force as she can.

But her voice's never sounded more fragile.

She hates feeling weak.

"You know what I like…" Schuester shrugs arrogantly, and motions towards his lap. She can barely hold back the vomit threatening to come out. "I like you kneeling down in front of me and-"

"Shut up!" She shrieks, pathetically but it has no use.

He pushes himself off of the car and takes a step closer to her, making the hairs rise on her arms.

"I like to feel your wet tongue all over my-"

"Shut up!" She shouts at him again, and tears slide down her cheeks. She rushes to wipe them off, but he catches them.

"Do I sense right you're not in the mood tonight?" He tilts his head to the side, like he would care.

But he doesn't.

All he cares about is having his dick sucked, so once in his fucking pathetic life, he can feel powerful.

When Santana is kneeling on the floor, and he is pushing himself down her throat, that's the only time he can feel stronger than her.

The only fucking time he is someone.

"What do you want from me? Just spit it out!" She demands of him, too exhausted to bear his presence much longer.

She just wants to be over with it, whatever he wants from her.

"You've been a very bad girl lately…I was starting to get concerned" Schuester frowns thoughtfully, and she has an urge to launch herself at him and punch that frown off his disgusting face.

"So you were stalking me?" She shakes her head at him, still not quite able to believe what he's been doing.

"I was just having a bit of fun…not everybody's life can be as interesting as yours." He chuckles, amused by his own pathetic humor. "All right, I have to admit, I had a bit of a reason. Ever since I realized you are fucking Pierce-"

"I'm not fucking her" She cuts him off, narrowing her eyes in anger.

She is close to cracking.

"Well, what do you call it when it's two women? Obviously, it's not 'normal' sex between a man and a woman, but still, it might constitute as fucking" Schuester muses, and Santana feels her anger boiling her blood.

"You are disgusting" She spats at him, grossed out that she has to stand this close to him at all.

"And you are stupid." He widens his eyes threateningly and Santana takes a step back. "Don't you realize she's different than us?"

"There is no us, Schuester!" Santana shouts at him.

The bastard is crazy and she doesn't know what he is capable of. But she is starting to think she doesn't know what she is capable of either, if he makes her crack.

"Oh, there is." Schuester nods up and down slowly. "Or did you forget our little secret?"

"How could I possibly forget if you are stalking me?" Santana asks him, but she knows it's not the only reason she didn't forget.

She could never forget.

The first time in his office, when she offered to give him a blowjob instead of a blood sample. And all the other times when she gave up her morals for her shame of a life, full of these dirty secrets.

"Then I guess I was successful after all." Schuester's mouth turns into a sneer. "I just wanted to give you a little reminder that I'm here, in case you forgot. And I know everything about you and your friends, even your sweet innocent Brittany."

"If you even touch her with a finger, I swear to God, I will kill you!" She yells at him, staring right into his dark, empty eyes. "Do you understand? I will kill you."

She would.

She knows she would.

"I won't do anything if you come to your senses." Schuester shrugs like it's that easy, but Santana has no idea what the fuck he means by that.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She frowns at him.

"I don't want you to see her again." He says slowly, and Santana's breath hitches. "That's the only way to guarantee you won't tell her anything."

She can't believe he wants to deprave her of the only fucking good thing in her life now. Does she really have to give up everything? Every damn thing in her life?

This is not fair.

She shouldn't be the only one suffering from their secret.

"You only want me to lie, because you're afraid you'd be going down with me if our arrangement got out!" Santana looks at him, intimidatingly, but he doesn't waver under her penetrating stare.

"Don't fool yourself, Anita!" He smiles a little, shaking his head, and she feels she is missing something here, a detail that could be important. A piece of information he is hiding from her. "You are not the only one in my hands."

He must be lying, just to make her suffer more.

"I hate you." She chokes out the only thing she can think of.

"That's not true and you know it. You wouldn't be here without me."

As much as it pains Santana, his words are true. She hates this world for it, but mostly herself.

She thinks of Brittany. She should be with her by now. She should have told her by now.

A long time ago.

"If you hurt her" Her voice cracks from the images of a hurt Brittany in her head. "I won't care about my own life…I will find you anywhere."

"Oh, is that so? You have feelings for the girl, how romantic..." Schuester chuckles, and she bites down on her bottom lip to keep her screams inside. "Just imagine her face, if you told her you sucked my dick for a place in the program!"

She gasps, and a sob erupts from her throat, shaking her whole body.

"Fuck you" She whimpers, completely broken.

"All right, all right I won't remind you again. I guess you got enough of a lesson tonight, didn't you?" He asks, and she wishes he would disappear already.

"Just go, go away please" She whispers, forcing her eyes away.

She can't bear to look at him anymore. She can't bear to see her own mistakes reflected in his eyes, looking right back at her. She feels his eyes on her face, searching her gaze, but she knows she would make a mistake that would cost her life, if she took another look at him.

The silence that settles around them makes the ache in Santana's heart spread all over her chest, ripping her into little pieces. Schuester's stare is burning her face like a slap by his hand, but she barely feels anything now.

The only thing she truly feels is heartbreak.

"I hope you will be a good girl again." He tells her, before turning away and stepping to his car. She can hear the amusement in his voice. "Take care, Anita"

He says his last words before leaving her alone, on a dark, empty road, with her heart bleeding inside her chest.

/

It takes a last tremendous effort to get back into her car and call Quinn. Her voice is strangely calm and monotonous while she's asking for her help.

The tears only come when the call cuts off and the phone drops from her hand.

She's trembling with the force of her sobs erupting right from her core. It seems like hours she can't stop. She is falling apart. The life she's built around herself is falling into pieces and she can do nothing about it.

The tears drain after what seems like eternity, but the hollowness inside her chest remains.

/

"Oh my God" Quinn gasps, when she opens the door of Santana's car.

Santana can't stop staring out of the window on the other side. Her tears are flowing down her cheeks again, but she is too tired to wipe them off. She doesn't care anymore. She just wants to go home.

"San, what happened?" Noah's voice hit her ear, and a second later she feels his rough hand touching her cheek with unusual gentleness.

He turns her face towards them, and they look back at her with panicked and horrified eyes.

"Santana, are you okay? Please talk to us" Quinn begs her tearfully.

"Did someone hurt you?" Noah spits the words out, and Santana can see the veins pulsating on her neck. "I swear I will beat the living shit out of them!"

She slowly shakes her head at them.

"Please, San" Quinn crouches down beside the car, and takes her hand. It is warm, and it feels good to hold onto. "Just say something, please?

She searches her eyes, but Santana knows they must seem dead—just like she is feeling inside.

"Take me home" She whispers.

Quinn squeezes her hand softly, and nods before standing up.

"Noah, help me pick her up."

"I got her" Noah leans down, and makes a huge effort to pick her up without any help from her slack body.

When he touches her, she wraps her arm around his neck and buries her head into him. She starts shaking, and his grip tightens. The last thing she feels is his lips kissing her hair, while she starts sobbing into his chest.

Then everything turns black.

/

She stirs awake, when they try to enter her room.

"Sorry" Noah whispers into her ear, going inside after Quinn opens the door.

He places her gently on the bed, and she curls into herself, already missing him.

"Stay please." She grabs his shirt when he starts to pull away.

"Okay" He smiles a little, and she fusses backwards on the bed to make room for him.

He climbs on the bed, and settles comfortably, before inviting her to lay her head on his chest. She wraps an around his torso, and he kisses her forehead.

Quinn clears her throat delicately, when Santana almost falls asleep again.

"I'm gonna be in-"

"You too." Santana cuts her off and reaches for her.

Quinn smiles at her, and nods before circling the bed to settle on her other side.

"I'm here." She whispers into Santana's ear from behind.

Santana looks at her above her shoulder, and it makes Quinn come closer and wrap her hand shyly around her stomach. Santana takes her hand and squeezes it tight, before turning back to rest her head on Noah.

She falls asleep again, surrounded by the only good thing she has yet to lose in her life, her friends' love.

/

Noah isn't there when she wakes up.

"He watched you sleep for hours." Quinn tells Santana when she starts to panic, searching for him frantically. "I sent him home." Quinn explains, before pulling her back to her embrace.

She is so warm.

She is so soft and warm it hurts.

Because it reminds Santana of someone else she just lost.

/

"Santana, sweetheart…it's almost noon." Quinn whispers into her ear, when she is half-conscious some time later.

"I don't want to wake up." She murmurs, and pushes her face to the pillow.

Quinn strokes her arm, and her soothing touch really doesn't help Santana wake up.

"Please, I'll make you a hot bath." She tries to convince her, and Santana has to admit it's a tempting idea. "Then we could talk, if you want." Quinn tells her carefully, but her words still make Santana's eyes snap open.

She turns to look at her, and tries to convey how much she would hate to recall the events of last night so soon. She is too weak now.

"We don't have to…" Quinn smiles sadly, squeezing her arm, and Santana nods.

"Okay" She whispers, and then Quinn leans in to kiss her forehead.

She leaves her alone for the first time since last night. It makes Santana grip the sheets tighter in her fist. She pushes her face into the pillow and breathes into it. She wishes she could stay in bed forever.

/

"I'll be outside if you need anything" Quinn strokes her back, and waits for her nod.

They are standing beside the bathtub, full of hot water, and she is staring into the white foam. It looks so nice. It will feel good.

But it won't wash the dirt off.

"I don't want to be alone." Santana whispers sadly.

Quinn's hand stops moving, and Santana can see the wheels turning in her brain.

"I'll stay then."

She turns away, while Santana undresses herself but she dares a glance at her when she still doesn't get into the water.

"Do you need help?" She asks delicately, and Santana looks her in the eye.

Quinn's expression falls, and that's when Santana realizes she's started to cry again.

"Sweetie" Quinn whispers quietly, and turns to wrap her arm around her naked back.

Santana lets her hold her, and her tears damp Quinn's shirt on her shoulder. When she pulls away, releasing a ragged breath, Quinn's eyes wander down her body for a split second but she blinks away instantly.

"Am I ugly?" Santana whispers quietly into the heavy silence.

Quinn turns her eyes back at her, and shakes her head slowly. She cups Santana's chin and smiles at her.

"You are too beautiful."

/

Brittany calls in the afternoon.

Quinn takes it.

"Brittany, hi, yeah, it's Quinn" Her voice is an octave higher than she usually speaks.

Santana watches her expression changing while Brittany speaks. She is sitting on the couch, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, and a half empty plate sits in front of her on the table. She could barely force a few bites down her throat, and now it's threatening to come up again.

"I…" Quinn's mouth hangs agape before she suddenly pulls the phone away from her ear. "She wants to talk to you."

"I can't…" Santana whispers.

Talking to Brittany is the last thing she can do now. She wants to, more than anything, to explain everything, but she can't.

"Brittany, I'm afraid she can't." Quinn shakes her head, and looks like she is in physical pain. "She doesn't want to talk to anyone."

Santana waits eagerly for what's to come.

"She…no, no, she is fine." Quinn rushes to inform Brittany and Santana's heart breaks imagining Brittany's worried face.

She must have been really worried. She must have called, but Santana didn't even check. She was afraid to check. She was afraid to face her. But it is not fair to avoid Brittany.

None of this is fucking fair to her.

"Britt, please don't make this harder for me." Quinn pleads, and Santana feels bad for making her do this. But she is too weak, she couldn't survive talking to Brittany now.

She motions to Quinn that she wants to say something.

"Please give me a second" Quinn asks of Brittany, before pulling away from the phone.

"Tell her I want her to leave me alone and we should stay away from each other." Santana whispers to Quinn, who looks at her like she's gone crazy.

"I won't" She tells her firmly, covering the phone with her palm.

"Quinn, please" Santana begs and Quinn snaps her eyes away.

She takes a second to consider her options, and Santana releases a deep breath when she brings the phone back to her ear.

"Yes, she is here with me…" She tells Brittany, eyes closed with a frown ruining her gorgeous face. "She…she wants you to leave her alone…" She looks like she is about to cry.

Santana is crying already, the disappointment and sadness Brittany might be feeling now squeezing her heart.

"Please, just give her time" Quinn tells Brittany, while opening her eyes to look at Santana again. "I know Britt…I'm sorry, but I don't know if it's a good idea."

She listens to Brittany, and a few seconds later she takes the phone away again.

"She wants to tell you something…she is begging you." Quinn tells Santana, and Santana bites down on her bottom lip hard, before nodding.

Quinn puts the Brittany on speaker and stares at the floor.

"She can hear you now, Britt."

Santana has to push her hand to her mouth to silence her sobs.

"Are you here? I hope you can hear me…" Brittany says quietly, her voice full of sorrow, and Santana pulls her knees up to rest her head on them, while listening to Brittany's breathing. "I just want you to know I'm really mad at you." Santana nods up and down, like Brittany can see her. "I've never met someone who is fighting so hard against their own happiness, but I won't let you go…" Santana gasps when Brittany voice cracks, as she starts crying too. "…because I have feelings for you and I know you have for me too."

"I do" Santana whispers inaudibly.

"…and I just wanted to tell you I'll be here…" Brittany lets out a heartbreaking little whimper. "…when you're ready."

They both cry in silence for seconds, before the call cuts off. Santana raises her eyes to look at Quinn, when she trusts herself not to fall apart completely.

"I'm sorry." She mouths almost inaudibly, and Quinn tries to blink a tear away.

She fails, and it slides down her cheek.

"Me too." She shakes her head, before rushing to Santana to hug her.

Santana knows she is sorry for all the things that make her fight against her own happiness.

/

She dreams about Brittany.

It makes her crack.

Something breaks inside her completely, and irrevocably.

/

It feels like hours that she spends sitting at her desk, in complete silence, trying to write the first sentence.

It's been a long time since she last wrote a letter. She wrote to her grandfather. Dozens of letters to him are hidden in the top drawer. She's never sent them.

She won't send the letter she is trying to write now.

She will give it to Brittany on the 21th of June, the day of the mission launch. She can only hope her words will mean something to her then.

Because Santana knows she will still feel the same.

/

_Dear Brittany,_

_My name is Santana Lopez…_

_…_

_…I'm falling in love with you…_


End file.
